Thousand Mile Wish
by Manic P
Summary: A Sarmatian girl is brought to Arthur's doorstep her job to heal. Her battle is not one of bloodshed and pain, but one for justice. The trials and tribulations of Arthur's knights seen from the eyes of a woman. [In Progress...]
1. Beautiful Goodbye

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own characters (Kate, Otri, Pavi, etc.) _**

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**_Beautiful Goodbye_**

It is the sound of hooves against the ground that I remember the most about that day. It was like a rolling thunder, sounding first from within the deepest crevices of the stomach and moving to the ears. The people of my village paused in their work at the sound of it, looking up curiously, almost all in unison. I had been among them that day, my basket filled almost to the brim with precious herbs and flowers I had picked. The others were unconcerned by the sound of approaching horses, but I felt my stomach twist uncomfortably in fear. I did not know why I was reacting this way, yet something inside of me told me that this was not a good thing. My fear only increased when my father had practically erupted from our hut, his forehead heavily creased with his deep frown. My mother had been right behind him, and she went to me, pulling me to her quickly.

"Mother?" I had questioned as she had seized my hand roughly, giving it a hard squeeze. She shushed me and had whispered, "All is well." Just as she spoke the words the horses came up over the hills and into sight. My heart leapt when I saw that they were Roman, dressed to the hilt in their uniforms. And with them were several other much younger men, all trailing behind as if they didn't want to be there. My father drew his sword in one swift movement, and I had jumped, whispering, "Mama, what's happening?" Alarmed, my mother could do nothing but shake her head at me.

The soldiers had slowed down as they reached the outskirts of our small village, motioning to the younger men to halt there. My father moved then; moved as I had never seen him do before. He moved almost like a cat, sliding in front of my mother and I in one swift movement. The Romans were unperturbed, trotting right up to him and looking at him as if he were an annoying fly to be swatted.

"I think you know why we are here." One of the Romans said to my father, his voice full of contempt. My father bared his teeth at them, looking for all intents and purposes like a cat as he hissed, "You may look elsewhere to settle the debt. I have no son to sacrifice." My mother's fingers dug into my arms as he said this, and I flinched a little in pain. The movement was enough, capturing the attention of the Roman soldiers. One of them grinned at me, revealing blackened teeth, and asked, "Is this your daughter?" My father tensed at this and said, "You will leave her alone."

"Must I remind you that you have no choice in this matter?" one of the Romans said as they dismounted, skirting around my father to come towards me. My mother forced me to back up with her, as if we could escape them. They reached us, smelling of sour sweat and grime. I knew little of why they had come. I had once been told by my father of his debt to the Romans, but he said that I would not be harmed, that we would be left alone. I remember thinking that I must have been dreaming as one reached out and touched my face, caressing my skin as if I were a common concubine. I had acted without thinking, shaking free of my mother's arms and shoving the man away from me, baring my teeth much in the same way as my father.

The Roman had laughed at me then, finding my fierceness hilarious. He had gestured at my basket then and had asked what the herbs were for. I had given him a very suspicious look, replying, "I am making them into a salve." He raised an eyebrow at this and looked back at his companion. The other man had snickered, nodding. The next thing I knew, I was being told to gather my things. My mother had shrieked in protest, almost leaping forward to seize me. She was dragged back by her sister, who comforted her with softly spoken words.

My father came to me then, looking far older than I had ever seen him. Stunned, I was lead into our hut to gather my things. My father hardly spoke, and the only sound that shattered the silence was the far-off sounds of my mother's sobs. When I was ready, my father knelt down, hugged me tight and said to me, "You have the spirit of the warrior within you. Never let them break you."

"Papa." I whispered, my throat closing up. He hugged me again fiercely and roughly told me to leave, practically pushing me out the door. I had just two bags with me, my healing items in one bag and my personal items in the other. My uncle brought my father's horse to me, a beautiful black animal whom I had always admired. He helped me up onto him, and I looked around at my village for the last time. My sobbing mother came to my side, reaching out to me. I touched her fingers briefly, whispering, "I will be back, Mama."

I had then spurred the horse into a quick trot, heading over to the young men waiting at the village limits. I had half expected them to tease me immediately, the only girl among them, yet they all simply regarded me with the same saddened look. I glanced back then, fighting my tears as best as I could. My mother had been joined by my father, who comforted her. My cousins arrived then to see me leave, each of them looking saddened by my abrupt departure. I worried in that instant, my fear twisting at my stomach roughly, that I would not see them ever again. I committed my village to memory, the sights and the sounds of it imprinted in my mind even now.

As we turned away, I let a single tear slip down my cheek. It was the end of my childhood, I would later recognize, and the beginning of adulthood. I would no longer be able to hide within my silly girlish behaviors. I was expected to become a woman.

That first day was the worst for me. The others ignored me and each other as best as they could, and the only thing that I could hear for the longest time was the moan of the wind through the trees. It was disheartening, and I found myself in such terrible spirits that I could barely lift my own head. We rode all day and well into the night before we set up camp. Most of the others were so exhausted that they fell asleep as soon as their heads hit their bedrolls.

I lie awake for quite some time, however. It was then that I missed my family the most. Instead of being surrounded by loving people, I was surrounded by strangers. I wrinkled my nose at the thought and amended, adding the fact that they all smelled awful. Tears pricked at my eyes for the second time, and this time I let them come. I struggled to keep quiet, but my sniffles alerted a single boy.

"Why do you cry, girl?" the boy demanded at a whisper, leaning over me. I scrubbed at my eyes with the heel of my palms and hissed, "That is none of your business, _boy_." He leaned back a little at my response and I half wished I hadn't reacted so. I was completely disarmed when he suddenly turned a very charming smile on me and said, "You are very lovely when you're angry." I tried to maintain my irritation at him, but I found myself lowering my defenses instead, whimpering, "I miss my Mama." He gave me a sad little smile and sat down next to me. I sat up too, unable to sleep, and listened carefully as he whispered, "Promise you won't tell the others?" I nodded solemnly, wanting to hear whatever he had to say.

"I miss my Mama too." He admitted, shame crossing his face. I patted his arm gently saying, "It's to be expected." He looked at me in surprise and then smiled again, reaching out to gently tug on one of my braids. I had looked away from him and said, "I will miss things, not being at home." He sounded confused when he asked, "What do you mean?" I sighed a little, tugging at my dress and said, "I will miss my cousin's weddings and I will miss growing up with my friends. I probably won't even be kissed!" I blushed as soon as the words left my mouth, making him chuckle at me.

"You shall be kissed." He told me, his voice heavy with meaning. I looked at him, raising my eyebrows. He leaned in immediately, but I stopped him, squeaking, "I do not even know your name!" He looked surprised at that and murmured, "Oh. I apologize. I am Lancelot." I smiled a little, finding the name pleasing, and replied, "I am Kate." He gave me a queer little smile and said, "Such a strange name." I frowned at him and replied, "If you are going to poke fun at my name, I will not speak to you ever again." He snorted at this, yet didn't say another word about my name.

He leaned in for the second time and this time I held still. To my surprise, the kiss was very nice, if a little awkward. He was as experienced as I was, perhaps a little more. It was a very chaste kiss, yet I couldn't complain. When he pulled back he said, "Was that good enough?" I shrugged and replied, "How should I know?" He gave me a look that told me he was not amused and I hastily continued, "It felt nice. I liked it." He seemed proud at this, sticking out his chest and looking extremely cocky. I giggled a little and said, "You are funny." He tugged my braid again and said, "Why thank you. Now get some sleep. I daresay we're going to be up early tomorrow." I nod and then lie back down, automatically obeying him. I sense him there for awhile longer before he too heads to his bedroll.

It was not the beginning of a whirlwind romance. We were friends, and nothing more. It was a relief to have him as a friend, and suddenly I no longer felt so alone. He was kind to me when the others kept their distance and I appreciated that more than anything. Months of travel loomed ahead of us, not to mention years of danger and uncertainty. Now was the time to band together, and he knew it. After that first night, things slowly got better for me.

The next day, we were awoken by the Romans shouting at us, kicking some of the boys savagely. The large boy, whose name turned out to be Bors, did not take kindly to it. He swore at the soldier as he got up, scratching himself crudely enough to make me blush and look away. I packed up my things and mounted my horse with the others, smiling when Lancelot rode up next to me. I pulled my furs around me tightly and set off with new spirit. It made me bolder, having the brave and outgoing Lancelot as my friend and I began to talk to the other boys, persisting until I had befriended them as well. Some saw me as a nuisance, shooing me away like a pesky insect, but most welcomed me.

The journey was long and perilous, and most of the boys grew tired of having only other boys as companions. I recognized and understood that they needed a feminine presence nearby, a soft and nice person to smooth out the jagged edges. Some grew too friendly, but by then I had a large army of friends to fight them off for me. After a few black eyes and even more missing teeth, they quickly came to an understanding that I would not be touched. I would be their comforter, a role that I welcomed.

I had never been in that kind of situation before and my body soon took the toll. I grew thinner and blisters appeared on my hands from holding the reins all day. Many of the others grew sick as the climate changed, and I nursed them back to health with certain teas I had used on my cousins before. I had innocently imagined that my duties as healer would progress no further than treating colds and other sicknesses. I watched the others as they practiced amongst themselves under the watchful eyes of the Roman soldiers. Not once did I have any desire to join them in that sport, having seen the injuries that it could potentially incur. Still, I felt the pangs of loneliness the most during these times, the lines drawn between them and me suddenly sharper.

During those months of travel I watched Lancelot closely. He was always leading, never following. He showed himself to be a master with the practice sword, so much so that even our Roman escorts made comments on it. I watched as the praise slowly made him arrogant, yet not always undesirably so. Deep down I knew he was lost, looking for something to take the place of home and family. Slowly but surely he accomplished his goal of making the rest of us fill that role in our own way. It was inevitable, as there was something about the dark featured man that was impossible to ignore. It was the perfect combination of arrogance, confidence and warmth that just made us rally around him without a second thought. I knew the others would be proud to ride with him into battle, and I was right.

We first saw Briton about four months after I left my home. All of us could only stare at it at first, dismay and outrage visible on our faces. There was nothing, nothing at all. The land was barren and desolate. As far as our eyes could make out, there was nothing that could remind us of home. After a moment, words slipped out of my mouth before I could help it. My voice was heavy with despair as I said, "What is to happen to us?" Several of the others glanced at me when I said this and Lancelot touched my shoulder to comfort me. The Romans barked at us to move and we spurred our horses into a gallop. I remember how the bitterly cold wind pricked at my eyes and forced me to wrap my furs around me tighter.

As we crossed the vast fields, went through the thick forests and thundered through bogs, I struggled to keep up with the others. The news that we were close to our post had lit a fire under them and they were eager to rest in a real bed for the night. I was frightened, however, of this new place. I fleetingly wondered if actually seeing the fortress and living there would stake its claim and refuse to let me go. I dallied at the rear of the formation, wanting to postpone the event as long as possible.

But of course we reached the gates that provided access to the wall, and by that time it was the dead of night. The Romans demanded that we be allowed to enter, and the gates opened slowly, labouriously done by two other Roman soldiers on the other side. I sat up straighter in my saddle, wanting to see what lay beyond the gates, but sat back down when I realized that it was impossible. I gave a small smile to Gawain when he told me, "I would not be so eager to see it, Lady. I daresay you'll be seeing much of this place for some time." I remember thinking that he sounded so mature, so accepting. It baffled me that someone who was only a month older than I was could be like that, while I was a veritable wreck.

When we finally walked through those gates, my heart fell. There was nothing special about this compound, nothing to really be happy about. The first word that came to mind was brown. Everything was like mud, from the fort itself to the wall that we had just come to. My horses' hooves made rather obscene squelching noises in the mud as I followed the rest of my companions to the large building ahead of us. My hands alternately clenched and released the reins, making my horse snort in irritation. As we passed, people looked up at the warriors with expressions that would only be described as awe. When they spotted me though, they began to whisper amongst themselves. I could not hear what they were saying, but could guess quite easily. I raised my chin and pretended not to notice.

It was then that the skies opened and began to pour down upon us without warning. I became drenched to the bone within minutes, and I sighed heavily, wondering what might go wrong next. I would become used to the sudden changes in weather; the non-stop rain. I was finally allowed to dismount, and my legs nearly buckled under my own weight. I leaned against my horse for a moment, stretching out my legs as I did. I looked up in time to see Gawain approach me, that wonderfully warm smile on his face. He offered me his arm and said, "Might I assist you?" I remember how I beamed at him, taking his arm and thanking him profusely. I suppose both of us needed someone to hold onto as we entered the building. As the youngest two of the group, it wasn't surprising that we turned to each other.

Stepping inside, I imagined that I was being led to a dungeon. The hallway was small and dark and I shivered a little, imagining the shadows were watching me. I stood up onto the tips of my toes, straining to see what was ahead. That was the first time I spotted him; that was the moment my life changed. He wasn't remarkable from a distance. He was average height, average build. He had dark hair and from what I could tell, he still had all of his teeth. But as Gawain and I got closer to him, I felt something. It radiated off of him strongly, and I was immediately reminded of Lancelot.

"Who is that?" Gawain asked me at a whisper, leaning over so only I could hear. I shook my head at him, my voice echoing around me as I replied, "I do not know." When we finally stood before this man, he regarded Gawain first. He appeared to be appraising him with his eyes, searching for something within the young man that perhaps not even he knew he had. I remained silent and still, in awe of this unnamed man. He smiled at Gawain finally, and I was taken aback at his lovely smile. Gawain nodded at him and told him his name and age. They shook hands and I could feel a camaraderie form almost instantly. Then the man looked at me.

The smile disappeared and I braced myself, unsure of what he would do. His eyes darted back to where our Roman escorts were, and something passed between them; something ugly. I nervously backed up, afraid that the stranger would turn his wrath upon me next. However, when he shifted his gaze back to me, his green eyes were gentle. He leaned forward and gently said, "I am Artorius… Arthur." He raised my hand to his mouth then and kissed the back, a friendly and brief kiss. I flushed a bit, glancing at Gawain who simply stared back at me, dumbfounded. Arthur straightened then and gently, almost condescendingly said to me, "I would very much appreciate it if you would wait out here for a moment."

Without waiting for an answer, even before learning my name, the man Arthur turned away from me and walked into the room at the end of the hallway. Gawain gave me an apologetic look and then left me to follow the man into the room. Stunned at this change of events, I could only stand there and watch, feeling utterly betrayed. The doors were shut behind them, and I was left out on the outside of it all. Releasing a breath that I hadn't been aware that I was holding, I looked around me, not sure what I was supposed to do next. In that moment, a boy came towards me. He was about the same age as Lancelot, perhaps a few years older. He had a kind face, and I relaxed slightly when he approached me.

He gave me a smile, a rather goofy looking one, and said, "You are to help me in the stables." My jaw dropped at this, and my voice was dangerously quiet as I said, "Pardon me?" His smile wavered, and his voice became uncertain as he replied, "Um… you are to help me in the stables, Miss. The horses need tending to." I barked out a laugh, yet there was nothing humourous about what was happening to me right then. I shook my head a little and followed the boy back the way I had just come. He stuttered as he told me his name, as if I had taken the confidence right out of him. Yet I couldn't release the bitterness or the anger that had entered my heart at the treatment I had received.

My father's words came back to me as I helped the squire remove the saddles and other items from the countless horses lead into the dark stables. I glared the entire time, muttering to myself in intervals as I furiously threw myself into my task. My father's words repeated in my head ceaselessly, "_Never let them break you. Never let them break you. You have the spirit of the warrior within you. Never let them break you._" I struggled to maintain my composure as Jols glanced back at me several times, his face nervous. My muscles ached by the time we had finished, but not nearly as much as my heart. I went over to my horse and reached up, stroking his nose gently as I mulled over my unfair treatment. Jols sensed that I wished to be alone then, and he took his leave with a soft goodnight.

I was alone for only minutes before Lancelot entered the room. His face was practically glowing, and his steps were confident and sure as he approached me. He sat down on the railing next to me and said, "Oh Kate, I think I may have been wrong about this whole adventure." I blanched at this; completely shocked by the way he spoke then, a complete change from his attitude before. To be honest, I felt as if he had stabbed me in the heart. Part of what had bonded us so was our mutual distaste for this journey, and I felt as if he had suddenly taken that away. His eyes almost danced as he said, "The man Arthur is our commander Kate, and he is a man of enlightenment. At first, I thought that what he was telling us was madness, but the more he spoke, the more it made sense."

He suddenly took my hands into his then, and continued on at a manic rate, almost frightening me, "There was a round table Kate, inside of that room. Don't you see? There was no head or foot to the table, _every spot was equal_. He said 'for men to be men, they must first be equal'. I trust this Arthur, Kate, I really and truly do." He was breathing hard as he finished, and I realized he must have run straight from the room to here once he was able to. I looked away from him, clenching my jaw and staring at my horse. I was furious with him, so angry that I couldn't speak at first.

"Kate?" he questioned, sounding perplexed, "What is the matter?" The question was so absurd that I found myself looking at him to be sure that he wasn't jesting with me. I barked out another laugh and said, "I would have thought it was obvious." He frowned then, and I felt my rage increase. I looked away from him again and quietly said, "Did you not notice that I wasn't there, Lancelot?" I hopped down from the railing, flinching a little when I heard him do the same. I moved towards the doors but his hand clamped down on my arm, stopping me.

"Kate, I do not understand." He said, making me look at him. I rolled my eyes at him and then shrilly said, "This Arthur speaks of equality? He speaks of justice? Well if this is his view of equality then I do not want to share in it. I'm sure he believes in equality for all… unless you happen to be a woman." I stormed out of the stables then, ignoring Lancelot as he called my name repeatedly. I had no inkling of where I was running to, I just knew that I needed to be away from him at that moment. I paused outside of the stables, leaning against a wall. It continued to rain but I paid it no heed.

When Arthur's voice came back, it was almost too much to bear. I found myself staring hard at a puddle on the ground as he spoke to me, his voice smooth as he told me that I would be staying with a woman instead of in the quarters with the rest of my companions. He told me that I would be doing women's work, mending the clothes of the boys inside of the building and the like. I laughed then, a bitter laugh, and I looked at him. He seemed taken aback as I looked at him and said, "I am a healer, Arthur. I am here to heal." He shook his head after a long pause and told me, "No. Your place is not here." I clenched my fists, and then stonily repeated, "_I am here to heal_." He was silent, and I knew that he was not listening to me; that all he saw when he looked at me was a thin, unremarkable girl.


	2. Let It Rain

**_Let It Rain_**

I was lead to the woman's home then. It was a mean little home, and it suited the woman. She was elderly, and I remember marveling at the fact that she was still able to walk and move about. She glared first at Arthur, then at me, and then rasped, "This little stick of a girl is to help me?" Arthur made a positive noise and nudged me in her direction. I shook then, afraid of her. She reminded me of the witch tales my cousin used to tell me; her stooped posture, her yellowed eyes, her scratchy voice and her claw like fingers. She grinned at me as I trembled, revealing yellowing teeth, and said, "It is not me you should fear now, girl." She seized me by the arm then and practically yanked me into her hut. It smelled there, and I wrinkled my nose.

I had not, and have not since then, wished to be a boy more than in that moment. I curled up into a ball on the floor, pulling my knees up to my chin. The old woman looked at me as if I were a bug and said, "I am Pavi." I hesitated a moment, remembering clearly my cousin's tales of the witch. He had warned me to never tell a witch your name, as that was the way she controlled you. I sighed and then said, "Kate." She gave me an odd look at the sound of my name, but did not comment. Instead she said to me, "You will be weaving, washing and the like. You will be up at dawn, in bed by dusk. I will not have you conversing with those boys from the fortress, I simply won't. I have brought enough trouble into my home without you becoming their whore in the process." I went white at her words, but found my voice was absent. I fleetingly wondered if the witch had stolen it as payment.

For a month and a half I followed a rigid routine. I was out of bed as soon as the sun rose. I weaved until my hands bled and then continued on. She would take orders from the people living in and around the fortress, give the orders to me, and I would fill them. Yet I received no accolades for my work. I was inside the hut more often than not, and my spirits felt so low that the only way I was staying alive was through my work. The one good thing about Pavi was her skills at gossip. She would talk for hours on what was happening around us, even though most of the time it was useless. I hardly talked the entire time I lived there, and I hardly ate. I was already thin before I came to her, and by the time I had been there for a month, I was skin and bones.

One day, about two weeks after I began working for her, I broke into another one of her long speeches to ask who the healer was in these parts. She gave me an odd look and rasped, "Don't be daft. There is no 'healer' girl, besides that boy that they call a squire." My heart nearly stopped at this and I felt real fear for my friends. If they ever got hurt, there was a very slim chance that Jols would be able to know what to do. He was a good squire, an eager and smart boy, but he was no healer. I fretted so much that my weaving was affected and I was made to start over.

I was just beginning to think that everything would stay as they were, and that I was destined to be miserable forever, an event occurred that changed everything. It was, for me at least, another regular beginning to another regular day. I had woken up at dawn, made my bedroll and woke up the old woman. I was about to wash my face in the basin of water that was kept by the front of the door when I noticed that it was almost empty. In a dull voice I told her that I was going to refill it in the well that was near the compound. She made a noise of agreement, not fully awake yet, and I hurriedly took my leave before she could change her mind.

I stepped outside and blinked at the sudden light. I hadn't been outside in days, and it felt strange to be in the fresh air and natural light. I went to the well, keeping my head down the entire time. I was weak by then, lack of food sapping my strength. I stumbled twice on the way to the well, and when I made it I had to pause a moment. It was then that the commotion arose. I looked up in time to see the men come riding through the opened gates so fast that I thought a demon might be on their heels. They shouted for Jols frantically, riding right past me and I knew that someone was injured. Abandoning the bucket, I followed them, pushing my way past some of the other people who also rushed towards the knights to see what was happening.

When I reached them, I was spotted first by Gawain. He was dressed to the hilt in armor and almost covered in blood. I went to him and demanded, "Are you hurt?" He shook his head saying, "No. It is Gallin." I remembered him almost immediately, recalling his handsome face and large stature. I paled as I said, "What happened?" Gawain swallowed thickly before responding, visibly affected by what happened.

"An a-arrow. It went through…." I didn't hear the rest of what he was saying before the final riders came thundering through the gates. Draped over Arthur's saddle was the injured Gallin. From all appearances he was dead, unmoving and completely pale. I watched as Jols rushed from the building, looking frightened. Once again I knew that this was not a job for him, and it never would be. I felt a fire light inside of me and a new strength grew. Arthur's horse stopped mere inches away from me and the men rushed to pull Gallin from the saddle. Jols told them to lay him on top of a blanket on the ground, saying that he shouldn't be moved, but I knew this was a bad idea. I watched as the squire leaned over the profusely bleeding Gallin, his face growing paler by the minute.

"U-um… I can see his bone." He said, a note creeping into his voice as he did, one that I recognized as a tone of nausea. He licked his lips and prodded the wound. Everyone was silent then, watching with a strange kind of fascination as Jols attended the injured knight, or at least tried to. I felt eyes on me then, and I looked up in time to see Lancelot staring at me. There was almost a reproachful look in his gaze, as if he was silently asking me why I was letting this go on. I looked away then, back to Jols as he continued to prod at Gallin's arm. It was then that Gallin decided to regain consciousness, and he did it suddenly enough to startle the wits out of poor Jols.

Galahad and Bors were motioned to in that moment, and they both held Gallin down carefully. The poor man struggled anyway, howling in pain until his face was red. I felt for him, yet I still did not speak up. Part of me felt that this was the perfect revenge, as when I glanced at Arthur, I saw the anguish on his features as plain as day. I watched, ever mindful of the meaningful stares of Lancelot. My attention swiftly moved back to Jols as he suddenly announced, "It has to come off." The words sent a wave of shock through the group, and even I was taken aback. The terror on Gallin's face nearly broke my heart, along with his soft plea of, "No… please Jols, not my arm…."

"It doesn't have to come off."

The words erupted from me before I could stop them and everyone looked at me. Some of their faces were openly hostile, some were simply curious. I hesitated for a moment and then turned to Arthur. In the calmest voice I could muster I said to him, "I know I am just a woman to you, but you have to accept that I am also a healer and I _can_ help this man. Give me one day, and I can save his arm. I promise you that." He seemed torn for a moment, and when he nodded at me, his eyes still appeared anguished. I nodded at him and then told the gathered men, "I need you to take this man inside and put him on a bed. I am going to need water, and I am going to need scraps of cloth." Nobody moved at first, and I began to despair, wondering if I was going to have to do it on my own.

It was Lancelot who moved first, barking at the others, "You heard her. Lift him." They obeyed Lancelot, and I hurried to follow them. I motioned to Gawain and he came over, leaning close to me as I breathlessly said, "I need my bags from Pavi's hut. Tell her where I am, but don't let her come for me… please, don't let her come." He nodded at me and then ran off in the direction of Pavi's hut, calling back, "I missed you Kate." I simply waved at him, unable to really let the comment sink in. I followed them as Gallin was taken to a room and then motioned for them to put him on the bed.

I examined the wound closely and grimly said, "I will not lie, Gallin. It is quite a wound. But I can save your arm." I told him to wiggle his fingers and he did, grimacing in pain. I smiled and said, "The pain is good, Gallin. It means that your arm is still working properly." He gave me an odd look and I nodded at him, giving him a comforting look in return. I was then handed the cloth and water. I began to wash the blood and dirt away from the wound and, in an attempt to get his mind off of the pain, I asked him what happened. His face contorted into a look of disgust as he says, "Woad." I did not know of what he spoke, but I simply nodded, waiting for the rest of the story. He was just finishing when Gawain came back with my bag, pushing his way through the crowds. I gave a look to Lancelot who immediately began to usher the men out of the room, ignoring their protests.

I motioned to Gawain and said, "I need you to boil some water for me, and put the crushed seeds into it. They're the ones in the smaller bag." He nodded and began to do as I say. Lancelot came toward me then and said, "What is that for?" I looked at him briefly before looking back at Gallin, answering, "For the pain." Gallin seemed to relax at this, softly whispering, "It hurts Kate." He sounded like a child in that moment and I felt my heart ache for him. I nodded at him, smiling at him sympathetically, and responded, "I know Gallin. The tea will help."

By the time the tea was made, Gallin was completely white. He sipped at the tea almost frantically, and within minutes he was sleeping. I sighed a little and then said, "Poor Gallin." I looked at him for a moment before moving towards my bag. My hands shook as I found what I was looking for. Both Lancelot and Gawain watched as I began to make the salve, both of them silent. I sighed a little as I said, "You should get some rest. There is nothing more that you can do." I was surprised when both shook their heads, a fierce loyalty being displayed. It touched me deeply, and I paused to smile at them both.

"Where have you been Kate?" Lancelot asked abruptly, sounding rather put out. I glanced at him and said, "I have been doing _women's_ work." He didn't reply to that, but I could feel the confusion coming off of him in waves. He must have had a hard time trying to reconcile the two versions of Arthur he was being confronted with. I know now that it was wrong to be so angry with Arthur. It wasn't like he knew any different of women, especially of my kind. Yet, for someone who was supposed to be 'enlightened', he was certainly still in the dark to me.

I finished the salve quickly and began to apply it to Gallin's arm, glad that he was unconscious for it all. I recalled a similar incident happening in my village, and the man it happened to was not as lucky as Gallin. He was awake when my mother applied the salve, and everyone heard his pain when she did. I shook my head to clear it and wrapped up Gallin's arm tightly. I breathed out a sharp breath and said, "There. We just need to leave it be for now." For the moment, my confidence had never been stronger. I knew that I would be able to save Gallin's arm, and I knew he would be alright. And sure enough, by the time the next day rolled around, Gallin's arm was already healing and he claimed to be in far less pain than the day before.

When Arthur walked into the room exactly one day after we struck our bargain, I think he already knew what had happened. He was faced by three of his knights, all of whom were impressed by my fast acting skills and wanted me to be their healer. Lancelot was the one to present the case in very logical points, talking over them thoroughly until Arthur held up his hand to silence him. He examined Gallin's arm for himself and then began to nod, a pleased smile crossing his lips. Gawain reached over and placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. I put my hand on top of his for a brief moment, my eyes never leaving Arthur. I was exhausted, I was hungry, but the only thing I could think of was Arthur's approval. He has that effect on people.

He asked me to leave the room with him, and I nodded, following him obediently. He regarded me carefully as he said, "You have made quite the impression on my knights." I wanted to retort by saying that they were my friends before they were his knights, but I remained silent, waiting for him to continue. He sighed a little and said, "I cannot argue with your skills as a healer… yet you are so young, and you are a woman." I looked up at this and said, "Why should that be a problem? Like you, I am descendant from a line of warriors. Like you, I laugh and feel happiness; I cry and feel pain. My heart beats like yours, I bleed as you do, I see and hear and taste as you do. Tell me why my being a woman is a hindrance." He looked at me, and when he did I could almost hear what he was thinking. He was intrigued by what I was saying, I could tell.

When he smiled at me, I felt relief wash through me. Lack of sleep and food had made me emotional, and I immediately wanted to throw myself at him and hug him. Instead I simply smiled back. He bowed his head at me and then shocked me as he told me, "If you are willing… I would be most eager… most _proud_ to have you sit at my table with the rest of the knights." My cheeks hurt as I smiled at him broadly, feeling as if I had crossed a major hurtle. The great Arthur had accepted me into his fold; he had called me to sit at his table… as an _equal_. It was almost too much to ask for.

I remember how the news had been broken to the others. Some were unhappy with the decision, but their opinions were changed once they were injured and I managed to heal them. When I first sat at the table, I recognized that I was in a unique situation for a woman, to be treated as an equal in a room full of men. I worked harder than they had to be there, but I had earned my place there. I left Pavi as soon as I could and moved into my very own room in the fortress. I felt no regret for leaving Pavi, and I daresay she felt the same. Still, whenever I had need of clothing, I went to her for it.

Years passed and I learned the heartache of losing friends. The culprit of these deaths was not always war. A sickness spread through the fortress one year, and took the lives of many, including the knight Gallin. It was then that I was forced to share my gifts as a healer to others, as I could not handle the task alone. It was the first time I worked alongside some of the knights, most notably the quiet Tristan and the stoic Dagonet. I found Dagonet in particular a most willing student.

I learned the pain of yearning for home and I felt the stabs of loneliness. The people living within the fortress began to know me as the healer to all, and I found myself receiving people of all kinds at all times of day and night. I lost many people, yet I saved many as well. I had blood on my hands just as the knights did. I learned things about the knights, things that I am sure their brothers-in-arms have no knowledge of. I learned of the ache that plagues Tristan's fingers from time to time; I learned of Dagonet's fear of water. I was privy to Galahad's near crippling shyness around women and Gawain's frustration at being the youngest in the company.

And as the years passed, I had to cope with the changes within my own body. Sometimes I hated them, wishing that I would stay a girl forever. I grew breasts and developed curves. I was no longer the twig I once was and yet I couldn't really be called average weight either. I got my monthly for the first time when I was thirteen and had to deal with it all on my own. And as I developed a woman's body, I began to develop a woman's yearnings. I wanted to learn what it would be like to fall in love.

I saw the knights grow up and begin to really discover women. I watched time and time again as they would attempt to seduce the local women. Sometimes it hurt to know that they desired women they hardly knew over a woman they had grown up with, who came from their own land. I watched as many produced bastards, although none so much as Bors, who fathered no less than eleven. I was with his lover Vanora for all of their births, and I sometimes caught myself wishing that it was me.

But one thing stayed pretty much the same. Lancelot. He was still the arrogant little boy he always was; only now his scope was much wider. He attempted to seduce more women than all the knights combined, and more often than not succeeded. Yet he never produced a single bastard, at least not to my knowledge. He never professed to love any woman or girl whose path he crossed. He offered none of these things upon meeting women, and I daresay they didn't expect them. What Lancelot was, and is, was beyond that. There was an understanding between them that they were not to have his love.

And I remained the sisterly figure to all even, eventually, to Arthur. I teased and joked with them, I was closer to them than most of their women, and they returned my gestures readily. They attempted to protect me from the realities of the world as much as they could. For example, they attempted to hide their trysts from me, especially Lancelot. When I would enquire after a woman he had been with, he would shrug it off and warn me not to mix with 'a woman of her type'. It was amusing at times, and I played along more often than not, but as it continued for years on end, I became very impatient with it.

A peculiar restlessness as settled into me recently, and I find I cannot escape it. The fact that our freedom looms tantalizingly over the horizon has made it even worse. I find myself looking out of my window longingly more and more, praying to my gods for time to speed up and release me from this torture. I have always planned on going home as soon as my freedom is handed to me, yet lately I wonder if it is such a wise plan. I have achieved something in this place, a kind of niche where I am given the opportunity to be myself. I do not know if the same freedom would be granted back in my village. I do not know if I will have kin there to greet me. In many ways, the knights are now my kin.

These sudden worries have plagued me, and I find I have lost sleep because of them. The others, at least most of them, seem to know what they want as soon as our fifteen years are up. I, on the other hand, have not resolved a plan for myself in way. I have spoken to Lancelot only once of my thoughts and his response was to urge me to return home, as if I had no other choice. He had told me that my heart belonged to Sarmatia, and always will. In some ways he is right. I dream of home more often than not, and it is as if I have not left. I can almost hear my cousin's laughter and see their faces. I can feel my mother's hands on my shoulders. I can see my father's smile. Yet when I wake, I am faced with the harsh reality that in my memories and dreams, time stands still. I have no way of knowing what Sarmatia might hold for me now.

I look at Lancelot and Arthur and I envy their confidence. They see things so clearly, and they know that they can accomplish their goals. Lancelot has eagerly spoken of his home to me on many occasions, often repeating details without realizing it. Arthur has spoken thusly of Rome, calling it organized and civilized. This kind of talk makes my very stomach hurt. They both disregard this land as if they had not lived within it for a large portion of their lives. They act as if there were nothing favorable about it, nothing that struck their fancy. It is as if everything they have accomplished or lost in this place is meaningless. It hurts me to think that they are so eager to abandon the friendship we have forged.

I feel as though they are eager to forget me.


	3. Salutare

**Disclaimer: See part one**

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**_Salutare_****__**

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"Lady, you should head inside!"

The Roman guard's voice floats above the pounding rain and howling wind precariously, and I have to strain to catch the words. I look up, squinting a little as the rain begins to fall on my now exposed face, and shout back, "I will not!" He recognizes the tone, and knows better than to argue with me. I am drenched to the bone, my heavy cloak with a hood doing nothing to protect me from the worst of Briton's weather. I look up again to see the guard motioning to his companion, both of them chuckling a little and shaking their heads. I know they are poking fun at me, but I ignore them.

Instead, I turn a glare on the gates themselves, hating the sight of them. Locked out, locked in, it's all the same to me. Those gates are the bane of my existence, and have been since I came here. They never open when I want them to and they always reveal the wrong person when they do. I cannot count the times that I have wished that they would open and reveal Arthur and his knights, only to wait in vain. I scowl a little, my mind shouting at those gates to open.

I have been waiting for days for Arthur and the knights to return. He had told me that it was a routine mission, that all they were doing was controlling a small Woad uprising. I had been skeptical, as their 'routine missions' always seem to sour rather quickly. He had given me a gentle smile and had assured me that they all would return in four days. I was helpless, as I usually am, and could only watch them leave. Four days have passed and now I wait for their return, waiting by the gates as I usually do. I am a familiar sight now to those who live here, and they no longer give me odd looks as they pass.

"Kate!" a voice calls, breaking me out of my frustrated thoughts. I turn and smile when I see Vanora approaching with her brood of children, most of who bicker amongst themselves at having to be out in the rain. She briskly tells them to wait under a little awning for shelter as she walks up to me, her face bright despite the miserable weather. I nod at her and say, "No sight of them yet." She raises an eyebrow and says, "I'm not surprised. How long have you been waiting?" I shrug a little, colour coming to my cheeks as I answer, "Quite awhile." She shakes her head and gently scolds me, saying, "You speak of health and how to avoid catching illness, and yet you insist on standing out in the rain with little to no cover to wait for men who might not even arrive? You baffle me Kate."

I can't help but laugh at what she says, having heard it dozens of times from her before. I look back at her children and wave at them, smiling when they wave back. I have been one constant presence in their lives, dropping in from time to time to visit with their mother, not to mention take care of their various illnesses, injuries and other various health concerns. Looking back on it all, I am baffled by some of the messes they've managed to make for themselves. One of the elder boys has managed to get himself hurt in the most creative ways.

Just as I lower my hand, the youngest girl of the brood runs out into the rain, ignoring her siblings' calls to come back. She runs to me and throws her arms around my waist, beaming up at me brightly. I pat the top of her head and say, "Hello there." She narrows her pretty dark eyes and says, "You haven't been by in so long." Her voice is slightly accusatory as she says it, and I can't help but feel guilty. I look down at the child that I have grown to care for so much and apologetically say, "I had much business, child, and I am sorry for it. But if your mother doesn't mind, you might be able to accompany me on my visits sometime soon." Her little face lights up and she looks to her mother immediately, the most adorable look on her face. Her mother laughs a little as she nods, and the little girl lets out a delighted shriek, hugging her mother around the legs and almost knocking her down.

The girl runs back to the shelter as soon as she releases her mother, calling to the others and bursting with pride. I smile after her fondly, having always had a soft spot for the girl. As the youngest girl, she was born at a disadvantage. Her older brothers and sisters pull and push for Vanora's attention constantly, and when Bors is around, his attention is usually focused on his sons. I have tried to make up for it all, and because of my attention she has latched onto me. I have always shied from calling her by her number, which is ten. Instead I call her 'girl' or 'little one', anything except her number.

"You are sure you do not mind?" I ask Vanora, wanting to be absolutely sure. She nods at me, her voice suddenly very tired as she says, "It will be a great help to me." I place a hand on her shoulder, concerned as I spot tears in her eyes. Her face is transformed by shame for a moment when she confesses, "I am having a hard time with them all. They are always into trouble, or they are after me for attention, and I find I am having less and less patience for them. I… I hate Bors sometimes for not being there… does that make me wicked?" I raise an eyebrow and say, "No, it does not make you wicked. It makes you smart. What woman wouldn't react that way, given your circumstances?" She smiles at me, looking relieved, and I give her a reassuring smile.

"You are a strong woman, Vanora. You will work things out." I tell her confidently. She gives a little chuckle and says, "I am not as strong as you, Kate." I draw back at this, blinking in surprise. She laughs at my expression and says, "Yes Kate, you are strong. To be doing what you do, to have the life you have… I envy you." I look away from her then, and before I can help myself I whisper, "You should not envy me Vanora." I look back at her to see her face become puzzled. She has no time to question me as the guards call down to us that there are riders approaching. My heart beats faster, as it always does when they return, and I find myself shifting my weight from foot to foot impatiently.

The gates are slowly opened by the guards and I can't help the broad smile that crosses my lips as the knights come thundering into the fortress, spraying mud and water as they do. Their sudden arrival attracts attention immediately, and I am not pleased in the least when I see that they have attracted young women as well. They pull their horses into a halt only a few feet away from us, and I feel overwhelmingly pleased when I hear Lancelot call out in a jovial tone, "Where is Kate?" I clear my throat and call back, "Here I am!" I rush towards him and blush a little when he says, "My, Kate. You look better every time I see you." He has that devilish look on his face, the same one I've seen hundreds of times before when he teases me. He holds open his arms and I practically throw myself at him, hugging him tight. He hugs me back just as tightly, and I savor the feeling.

"Are you alright?" I ask at a murmur, relaxing even further when he says that he is well. A grin comes to my face as I say, "Good, then go and bathe. You smell." He pulls back to make a face at me, but there is a light in his eyes. He turns then to see to his horse and I face the others, almost unable to contain my joy at seeing them all. I let out a little squeak when Gawain wraps his arms around me boisterously, spinning me a little as he says, "A sight for sore eyes!" I ask him if he is well too and he steps back, lifting his arms in the air announcing, "I am well, Kate." I give a little sigh of relief and murmur, "Good." He gives me another squeeze and then moves to greet Jols, though not nearly as eagerly as he greeted me.

I greet and carefully examine all of the knights, each of them tolerating my routine questions with a patient smile. When I hug Tristan, he discreetly murmurs to me that his fingers have been giving him trouble, and I whisper back for him to visit me whenever he wishes. When he moves to retrieve his things from the back of his saddle, I notice how he flexes his fingers slowly, as if trying to work the ache from them. I glance to my left and smile as I see Bors and Vanora locked in a very passionate kiss, fairly ignoring the multitude of children clamoring at them as they do, demanding Bors' attention.

My smile fades almost instantly when Lancelot passes by them, breaking apart their tender moment by reaching out and patting Vanora on the bottom, startling her away from her lover's kiss. He gives her a look that borders on obscene as he chuckles, winking at Bors as he glares fiercely after the lusty knight. I am startled by the pain that makes a sudden appearance in my heart at the scene, and I find myself deeply disturbed by it all. I turn away, trying to block everything out and struggling to regain my smile.

"He has gotten worse, I think." Arthur says as he approaches me, an amused smile on his face. I give him a look and say, "I believe he has." At my tone, Arthur looks at me, alerted by the distaste he hears. His own voice is soothing as he says, "I do not believe that he means it. I think he does it to tease Bors more than anything." His expression shifts slightly, and I spy a knowing look creeping across his features, as if he is privy to something I am not. I flush deeply without truly knowing why, and stammer, "I-It is no business of mine." I force the smile back onto my lips and lightly say, "I daresay Lancelot will never change." Arthur returns the smile, although he appears slightly puzzled at the same time.

The rain has long since stopped, and the ground is littered with puddles of all shapes and sizes. The children are attracted to them, and predictably they leap into them, splashing everyone within the immediate area. Adults watch them with indulgent looks on their faces as they play, and a few of the younger ones look on wistfully, as if wishing they could join in. The women, who had been actively trying to get the knight's attentions, finally admit defeat and wander off in pairs, quietly lamenting their failure to entice one of them.

The knights now heading in all different directions, I decide to head back inside and change, suddenly painfully aware of the cold. Arthur and I excuse ourselves and head in opposite directions. I quickly head to my room, now uncomfortable, and as soon as I have privacy I begin to divest myself of my clothing, dropping it all into a pile at my feet. I change into dry, warm clothes and comb my fingers through my still soaking hair, trying to make myself presentable again.

It is at that moment when there is a knock at my door, a soft knock, almost hesitant. Thinking that it is probably a villager, or possibly Tristan, I absently call for them to enter. When Gawain's voice greets me, I turn to face him with a puzzled smile, asking, "Gawain? I thought you said you were alright?" He nods and tells me, "I am quite well. Do not fuss, Kate. I came by to give you a gift." I blink in surprise and repeat, "A gift?" He chuckles and says, "Yes Kate, a gift. You look surprised." I tilt my head to one side and say, "I am surprised. It is very… unexpected." He strides over to me then and hands me a bundle, tied tightly around the top. It is big enough that I have to hold it in two hands. I set it down on my table and, at his encouragement, open it. When I undo it, the bundle spills open, revealing bunches of various herbs and dried flowers. I let out a little cry and excitedly say, "There is so many… oh Gawain, this is perfect!"

I embrace him briefly before examining them all closely, murmuring, "I will not have to go out and gather more for at least a month now." I look up at him and ask, "What made you do this, Gawain?" He shrugs and replies, "I thought you might like it." I smile at him again and softly say, "I do Gawain. Thank you so much." He waves off my words, looking a little flustered, and I return to sorting the gift, unable to keep the pleased grin from my face. Gawain looks around my room, acting as if he had never stepped foot in here before, and then says, "I have heard that you have been very busy since last we saw you." I make an affirmative noise and tell him, "Mainly with Otri. You know of him, do you not?" He nods, though his voice is slightly uncertain as he says, "The old man with the goats?" I nod and say, "He is going mad, I think. He now insists on sleeping with his 'beloved'."

"He has a lover?" Gawain asks me, sounding incredulous. I laugh out loud at this and say, "No. His beloved is a goat." Gawain laughs at this, and I laugh with him, unable to help myself. Gawain has always had the most wonderfully infectious laugh, starting in the pit of his belly and rising up to his throat. Once the laughter pauses, he asks, "Have you been able to help him?" I scowl now, though it is not particularly fierce and mutter, "He will not let me near him. The man claims I am the spawn of a demon, or some such thing."

"Our Kate, the spawn of a demon?" Gawain repeats, humour in his tone, "Never!" I lightly hit him on the shoulder, knowing that he is teasing me and say, "It is not funny, Gawain." He nods at me, but he does not remove that little grin from his face. I have missed him terribly, as I always do when they all go away. I do not know how I will handle being away from them all forever in barely seven day's time. I shiver a little, sobered by my thoughts, and the movement is caught by Gawain's sharp eyes.

"What ails you Kate?" he asks me, his voice deep with concern. I heave a little sigh and softly admit, "As much as I want us all to be free… I fear my heart will be sick for missing you all." He gives me a sad little smile and gently says, "I understand."

After a moment of silence, I look up at him and ask, "Do I want to know?" It is a question that I ask every time they return from a mission. Sometimes I want to know what happened on their adventures, and as I listen, I sometimes imagine myself with them, riding into glorious battle at their side. Other times, however, I don't want to hear about the gratuitous blood and pain that always accompanies such stories. When he shakes his head at me, I make a face and say, "I thought so." I try my best not to imagine what happened.

"I did not intend to make you melancholy, Kate." Gawain says his voice uncharacteristically serious. I force a smile onto my lips and say, "The fault lies not with you, Gawain. I apologize." He searches my eyes for a moment before relaxing. We exchange some more idle chat while I begin to prepare the herbs and dried flowers. He leaves some time later, and when he does, my heart feels lighter. Gawain has always had that effect on me. His personality makes it nearly impossible for me to stay upset around him for long, something that irks me to no end when he makes me angry.

I find that with my spirits lifted from anxiety, I am happier and smile to myself often. I do more work in one day than I usually do in two, including making a few calls to various people. By the time night comes, I am tired, but in a pleasant way that I take to mean I have accomplished much. I have no nightmares, and find sleep comes easily. I can rest now, knowing that they are all safe within the fortress walls.

I wake early the next morning, feeling refreshed and eager to begin a new day. I dress quickly, and then attempt to tame my mess of curls as I run through the things I need to accomplish today. I pack my bag to the brim with remedies and then walk out the door into the fresh morning air. It is strange to be awake so early that the only sound I can hear clearly is the sound of birds singing their lovely songs into the morning air. My heart sings with it, though its song is bittersweet. It sings a song of freedom just over the horizon.

Though it is still early, I head over to where Vanora and the children are. Today seems the perfect day to fulfill my promise to the little girl. I peek my head in through the door only to see the family lying all over the place like dead bodies. I would truly believe that were it not for the occasional snore and the restless tossing and turning of more than one of the children. I press my lips together tightly to keep from laughing and then enter the home, maneuvering around the bodies on tip toe, trying to be as silent as possible. When I finally reach Vanora, who is sprawled on her back with her mouth wide open, I really have to fight the laughter that threatens to bubble out of me. I truly see now why Bors is so attracted to her. I shake my head a little and then lean over, touching her shoulder.

Instantly she is awake, sitting upright so fast that I gasp in surprise. She looks around in confusion for a moment before her eyes settle on me. When she sees me she groans, lying back down and rasping, "No, this is not happening. Kate is not here, it is impossible. It is far too early." I sigh a little and say, "I am going out, and I want to take the girl with me. I _did_ promise her." Vanora sighs and turns over, mumbling, "Go ahead. Just leave." I shake my head a little at her and then turn, looking for the little girl. I smile brightly when I see her looking at me already, a very excited look on her face. I motion for her to get up, quickly raising a finger to my mouth when she makes a little too much noise. She gets ready, and then follows me outside, careful not to wake her brothers and sisters.

Once we are outside, I turn to her and crouch, looking her right in the eyes. I pull my face into a serious expression and solemnly say, "Now there is something you must promise me, little one. Today will be a very busy day, and I shall need your solemn promise that you will uphold your office as honorary healer as best as you can." Her eyes widen, and her voice is almost awed as she repeats, "Honorary healer?" I nod and cannot help my smile when I see the look of pride wash over her. She holds out her tiny little hand and says, "I swear, Lady Kate." I shake her hand, straightening up, and then tell her, "The first thing you must know is that no matter what anyone says, no matter how old or important they may be, you must trust your own instincts first."

"Why?" she questions, listening to what I am saying with rapt attention. I glance down at her and say, "If you can't trust your own instincts, then what can you count on?" She accepts this, and I continue, "If you find your remedy does not work, or that it actually makes the problem worse, then seek outside sources. You mustn't cling to pride when health is in question." I pause for a moment, wondering if this information is too much for a child of six, yet her face is very serious and accepting. I marvel at her maturity for a moment before continuing, "Many people do not believe that women are capable of being healers-"

"Why?" she asks again, looking up at me with a little frown on her face. I sigh a little, trying to keep the bitterness from my voice as I answer, "Because some people do not want to see women as capable of handling such things. It threatens everything that they know; that they are comfortable with… do you understand?" She nods and I softly continue, "Most people's definition of a woman will differ from yours and mine…."

Life is just beginning to show in the fortress rounds, the sounds of assorted animals reaching my ears. I am greeted by some people who pass and I nod at them in return, offering a small smile. A woman passes, a bag of apples hoisted onto her back. She greets me warmly, thanking me for helping her with her cough, and then offers both the little girl and I an apple. We accept the gift gratefully and take our leave. I often catch the girl watching my movements, copying them dutifully. I struggle to keep the grin from my face as I take her further away from her home.

When we reach the first home, which is no more than a mean little hovel, held together (it appears) by string. Before announcing myself, I crouch down in front of the little girl again and say, "A woman named Thuilo lives here, and she suffers from burns on her hands and a little on her face. It was an accident, I was told. Now I need you to promise that you will not stare. She is very sensitive about her appearance, and I do not know what she would do if you stared." The little girl nods solemnly, looking so much older than her young years.

Upon entering the hovel, I can immediately tell that Thuilo's spirits haven't been lifted since I last saw her. The home is a mess, pottery and food scattered all over the tables and even on the floors. There is dust on many other items, something that I have never seen in her home before. Thuilo usually takes such pride in her home, and to see it in such disarray is very concerning. My eyes adjust to the dark light and I make out Thuilo's form sitting at the far end of the table. Her eyes are focused solely on the top and her head is bent, hiding her face from view.

"Good morning Thuilo." I say, keeping my voice even and level. She doesn't move, nor does she answer. I move closer to her, motioning for the little girl to follow, and tell her, "I've brought a balm… it might help with any irritation you might feel…."

"It doesn't matter." Thuilo finally says, her voice so heavy with sorrow that I find my own heart dampening. I pause for a moment and then say, "It does, Thuilo. If you do not use it, it might get worse." She flinches at this, raising her head, and I begin to rummage through my bag, looking for the balm. When I find it, I hand it to her and say, "Here. Promise me you'll use it Thuilo." She makes a vague noise, yet when her reddened and inflamed fingers wrap around the little container, she does not move to throw it, as she has in the past. Instead she brings it to her face and mumbles something. The words are not directed at anyone in particular, yet I know that she will listen to me.

Sensing that she wants to be alone now, I turn on my heel and head towards the door, the little girl right on my heels. Just as we reach the doorway she calls out, "Thank you." I pause for a moment, allowing myself a small, sad smile, and call back, "You are welcome." I head back out into the sun, not surprised in the least when the little girl grabs a handful of my dress and tugs gently, whispering, "Why was she acting like that?" I continue walking in silence for a moment before answering, "She was a great beauty once. Now she thinks that her worth is diminished by her scars."

I am about to head to the next home when I hear my name shouted from afar. I groan, tilting back my head and muttering to myself, "Not today…." In the next second my thin arm is seized by one large, rather sweaty one, and a familiar voice gasps, "Thank the gods I found you Kate. It is happening again." I turn to face the red-haired woman and tiredly say, "Madam, I have told you often, there is nothing I can do for him." She gives me a rather disgusted look and says, "I need your assistance. Help me restrain him. Give him more of that tea." I frown a little and mutter, "'That tea' is not just-"

"You must come!" she cries, interrupting me effectively. I allow her to pull me along, though I mildly protest the grip she has on my arms. Her fingernails are like claws in my skin. The little girl follows us a little hesitantly, and I cannot blame her in the least. Otri's wife is no wilting flower. She resembles rampaging bear, I would say.

I can hear Otri from where I am, and I am not the only one. A crowd has gathered by his home, more specifically, by his pen. I can immediately tell that this will not be a pleasant encounter. He is howling at the top of his lungs, mainly gibberish, and I can only imagine what must have set off this particular attack. The crowds part for Otri's wife and I, and I find myself dragging my heels in the mud, trying to delay this encounter for as long as possible. Despite my best efforts, Otri's wife manages to force me to the fence where I finally lay eyes on the man that I have come to call the bane of my existence.

I believe it is either old age or simply madness that has claimed the man. He falls into certain fits occasionally, and it is simply impossible to reason with him once he does. He is suspicious of everyone, including his wife, and this suspicion has led him to alienate everyone… except for his goats.

He spies me as soon as I reach the fence, and in that moment, I wish I hadn't come out of my room today. He is in the middle of the pen, kneeling in the mud next to his 'beloved'. He is simply filthy, his hair even caked with mud. The only thing that seems clean is his eyes. Unfortunately for me, they are clean of reason as well. His thin fingers are curled around the goat's muzzle, holding her still. The entire scene is so absurd that part of me wonders if I'm still dreaming. As soon as his eyes land on me he bears his teeth, hissing my name like a cat. I scowl a little as he somehow manages to find the gall to call _me_ the spawn of a demon. My scowl deepens when his wife begins to poke at me in a very irritating way, nudging me as she demands, "Well… fix him!" I sigh and say, "I cannot Madam. I have told you before-"

"Do something!" she barks, her glare leaving no room for argument. I raise my eyes to the sky and ask the gods for assistance before looking back to her and growling "Watch the girl." She makes a movement as if to protest, but I shake my head at her curtly. She stops in mid-movement, her eyes pinned on my form as I make my way into the pen, muttering to myself, "This is ridiculous." Otri's eyes widen as I approach him, and I try to make myself as non-threatening as possible. The goat turns its head to look at me, and I shiver a little. I could almost swear that it too glares at me.

"I will not let you take us, demon girl!" Otri rasps, lifting a gnarled finger to point at me. I pause then, and say, "I am not here to take anyone." He hacks out a laugh at my words and wildly responds, "I shall vanquish you!" I give a little snort and mutter under my breath, "With what, your goat?" Out loud I say, "There is no need to be afraid, Otri."

He barks out a laugh once more, and seems to be incensed by my words, cackling, "You give yourself away demon! How else could you know my name but through black magic?" I heave a heavy sigh and answer, "Quite easily, since you see me almost everyday Otri." He is silent at this, yet he still stares at me suspiciously, his fingers stroking the goat absently. The animal still has one eye fixed on me, and seems quite perturbed by my presence. I take a step forward, calmly saying, "Your wife is alarmed by your behavior, and wishes for you to come inside." He remains silent, though he purses his lips as though pouting.

It is then, in a movement that by all rights should never be attempted by a man his age, he suddenly reaches down, seizes a rather large clump of mud and flings it at me, shrieking loudly enough to startle the spectators. I flinch as the mess meets its target, splattering me across my face, neck and chest. My already tenuous hold on my temper is shattered, and I find myself reacting without really thinking. I raise a hand, pointing at him, and growl through clenched teeth, "You speak true, Otri. I am a demon. And so help me if you do not do exactly as I say, I shall make you suffer! Stand down or… or I shall strike your goat with the most terrible malady I can think of!"

He blanches at this, grabbing onto his goat tightly. The goat gives a rather indignant bleat at this, fixing that eye on its master. Otri glares at me in silence, jumping a little when I shout in warning, "So help me, Otri!" His shoulders slump and I take this as a sign of acceptance. I creep forward until I am within range of him. His smell, mingling unpleasantly with the smell of the goat, wafts to my nose and I try not to make a face of disgust, though it takes much will. I reach into my bag and retrieve a vial, handing it to him and saying, "Take this." He sniffs at the thing, his face mashed into a look of distaste. When I snap at him, he obediently downs the liquid, his look of distaste increasing tenfold.

When he has downed it all, I smile at him, pleased at my victory, and say, "There. That wasn't so bad." He simply holds out the vial for me to retrieve. I reach out to take it from him, and as soon as I do the goat decides that it has had enough. I barely have time to blink before it has lunged at me. I howl in pain as the thing latches onto my hand, two of my fingers disappearing into its mouth. When the yellowed teeth release my hand, the old man cackles gleefully and suddenly bolts away from me and into the house. Sputtering in rage, I am completely immobilized, cradling my hand to my chest as I watch his wife run in after him, her large body also disappearing inside.

Finally, I manage to speak, and the first words that pop out of my mouth are, "You cantankerous old fart! You planned the whole thing, didn't you?!"

**[Next time]**

**The days leading up to freedom see many more questions arise. **

**[PS- I am having a little struggle on a simple question. Should I have her accompany them on that fateful last mission, or not? I would have her go along, but I don't want it to go over the same scenes as the movie YET AGAIN and leave people bored. Plus, I don't know that it would be a wise choice considering the direction I've chosen for the character. Anyway, any suggestions would be much appreciated. Thanks again to all reviewers.]**


	4. Tired

**_Disclaimer:_**** See part one**

**__**

**_Tired_**

I never liked the fortress at night. Things happen at night that would never happen during the day. The men gather in a particular courtyard to indulge themselves in wine, women and often song. I usually make a note of staying away from there, not trusting the Roman soldiers when they drink. I hear them sometimes from my room, laughing and joking loudly, obviously affected by their wine. They gamble, and more often than not their games turn vicious. I receive many of them in the middle of the night, usually bleeding profusely.

I pray to the gods that I might be spared this tonight as I wearily push open the door to my home, shutting it behind me with a quick little movement of my foot. I lift my bag from my shoulder, wincing as it jostles my heavily bruised fingers. I drop my bag in the middle of the floor and flex my fingers slowly, hissing in a breath as the ache there increases. Too exhausted to tend to it right now, I simply tighten the bandages that I put on earlier and head over to bed. I collapse onto it and lie down, groaning as my sore feet are finally given a respite.

It seemed the work would never end, especially after the trouble at Otri's. I had barely had time to salvage what was left of my dignity before I was cornered by people wanting me to cure their various aliments, and those of their families as well. The little girl was so exhausted near the end of it all that I had to carry her all the way back to her home. We caught Vanora just as she was about to go out, and the little girl raced inside after thanking me, eager to tell her brothers and sisters about her day. Vanora and I were headed in the same direction, and so we walked together for awhile. She inquired after my hand and I gave her the amended version of the story, telling her that I injured it while at Otri's and leaving it at that.

I sigh a little, raising my good hand to my temple. I hear the men laughing from the courtyard, followed by the sound of breaking pottery. I turn onto my side, trying to escape it all when I hear the sound of a woman's voice breaking through. I cannot make out the words, but it doesn't matter. As soon as I hear it I find myself imagining what it would be like to be her; wanted by the men, probably pretty and free of the worries that seem to plague me on a daily basis. I feel my mood darken and sigh again; wishing fruitlessly that it didn't have to be like this. I seem to be ruled by my work, though the thought of reducing it brings me up short.

The fact of the matter is I cannot reduce my work or change what I am doing in any way. If I do, I will be seen as incompetent, and perhaps people will look at me and say, "Ah, you see? Women aren't capable of handling men's work." My head begins to throb at the weight of my heavy thoughts, and I use my good hand to massage my temples, trying to alleviate the sudden pain. Still, I cannot help but wonder at my fate. Am I destined to remain as I am for the rest of my life: a healer first and foremost? Am I destined to be alone? My tired body begs for rest and my eyes close of their own accord. I can only hope that within sleep, I will find refuge from the pain in my head.

The night brings with it peculiar dreams. I see fire, and the dream is vivid enough for me to imagine I feel heat on my face. I am eleven years old again, brought here to Briton against my will. Yet my mother is standing next to me, her grip on my hand tight. I look up at her to see her impassive face as she watches the homes in front of us burn. She turns to look at me and the dream shifts dramatically. Instead of seeing my mother, I am looking into the face of Arthur. His eyes flash as he bends slightly at the waist to murmur in my ear, "They come closer every day."

"Who?" I ask, my voice sounding incredibly young to my own ears. He ignores me, looking back to the fire. I follow his gaze and gasp in horror when I see the bodies of children lying amongst the remains of the building. Arthur speaks again, his voice suddenly older and strange to my ears as he says, "Are you ready?"

My reply is lost as I abruptly wake from the dream, sitting upright in bed with a loud gasp. Confusion settles in upon me for a moment, and my eyes dart around the darkened room, searching for answers. When I regain my senses, I lie back down with a sigh, bringing a hand to my forehead. The dream stays with me and I am still deeply disturbed by it. It felt so real. The image of the dead children flash through my mind like lightning and I shudder, feeling unnerved that my own mind could create such a scenario. I close my eyes and try to mentally will it all away.

Still, as a gust of cold wind floats through my room, I cannot help the thought that there are dark times ahead. Something deep down inside me is telling me that something is wrong. I shake my head a little, trying my best to dismiss it as a misguided reaction to the dream. I get out of bed, walking over to my small window and stare outside. The world outside is silent once again, and I feel relief at that. I stare up at the sky, quickly making out the stars. A memory comes back to me, sudden and unbidden, but not unwelcome.

I remember once when I was young, perhaps five or six, my father woke me up during the night. I had been groggy, and he placed a hand over my mouth gently to keep me from speaking and waking my mother. He scooped me up from my blankets and took me outside into the cold night air. I remember having seen my breath on the air as my father carried me to the outskirts of our small village. He pointed up at the sky, and I had strained to see what he was pointing out to me.

"You see that star there?" he asked me, glancing at me briefly before looking back up at the sky. I made an affirmative noise, and I remember thinking that that particular star seemed to shine extra bright when he pointed it out to me. He gave me an affectionate squeeze as he told me, "That's where your ancestors are. They will always be up there, looking down on us and protecting us. The gods put them there, Kate. It is a place of honour. Someday, I will be up there too." I had shaken my head, my young mind unable to fathom the idea that he would be dead someday. He laughed a little and said to me, "You are a gifted healer, girl, but I daresay you aren't _that_ good." He tickled me a little then and I giggled, squirming in his arms.

Eventually, we fell silent again, looking back to the stars. That one star seemed to wink at me as I looked at it, and I made a promise right then and there that I would honour my ancestors. No matter what happened; I would make them and my father proud. My eyes seek out that star as I stand at the window now, and I feel almost as I did when I was a child, small and in complete awe of the skies above me. I smile a little into the darkness and my whisper is swallowed by the wind and carried up to the skies.

"Ancestors, I beg of you, lend me your strength. I feel the winds changing around me even now… something is about to happen; something horrible. I can feel it."

After lingering for a moment longer at the window, I turn away and slip beneath my blanket once more. Feeling comforted now, sleep returns to me quickly. As I slip into the state that is not quite sleep, and yet not awake either; I imagine that the warmth of the blanket is actually my father's embrace. My sleep is undisturbed by any more bad dreams.

Morning comes faster than I had imagined was possible. For the first time in a long while, I wake slowly. Though I am still plagued by both the pain in my hand and the nightmare that had come to me last night, I am able close my eyes and will the negativity away. I pull my blanket over my head, curling up into a small ball. I smile to myself as the memory that there is barely five days left until freedom. Giddiness washes over me and my smile gets a little wider. I yawn widely and stretch out my whole body, all the way down to my toes. I curl up again, wanting to sleep longer for once when there is a knock at my door. I slump a little in disappointment and call out, "Who is it?"

"It is I." comes the reply, and I quickly recognize Tristan's voice. I sit up in bed, throwing back the covers and loudly say, "One moment please." I make myself presentable and then head for the door. When I open it, Tristan gives me one of his rare half-smiles and asks, "Late morning?" I return it with a little grin of my own and reply, "I had been hoping for one. What is it Tristan? Your fingers again?" He nods a little and I open the door fully, motioning for him to come inside. He immediately goes to sit at the table, holding out his hand to me.

This has become a kind of routine between the two of us in the last few years. Every couple of months his fingers give him trouble, becoming stiff and painful for him to move. I apply the regular rounds of ointments and treatments, and he makes his usual empty promises to take it easy on his hand. I enjoy his company, as he is a wonderful listener. I have also noticed him looking at me with respect open on his features. It is nice to see, as I usually never receive such an open demonstration of approval from a man.

"I heard the noise last night," I begin as I rummage around for the ointment I need, "sounded like you were having fun." Tristan makes an affirmative noise and says, "Galahad in particular. Too much ale." I grin a little and make a little noise of triumph when I find the jar I am looking for. I head back to the table and say, "I think he believes it will give him courage." I reach for Tristan's hand then, and begin to work the ointment into his fingers. I smile at him as his usually blank face shifts into a look of relief. I know how much it matters to him that he is able to use his hands, especially since his weapon of choice is his bow.

"Tristan, you must listen to me alright?" I begin. He looks up at me and I shake my head a little when I see the amusement in his eyes. He reaches up with his good hand to brush his bangs out of his eyes as I begin my usual speech on how to take care of his hands. I know that he is not truly listening to me, but I give him my warnings anyway, trying to reach him. I doubt I'll ever stop trying to reach him. I have seen this happen before, to men and women alike. I've seen what happens when my instructions are not followed.

"Ah Kate, what would I do without you?" Tristan says as soon as I finish my speech, and I pause in my ministrations at his rather teasing tone. I make a face at him and mutter, "You'd probably be walking around in constant pain, that's what. You are so hard-headed." I finish with his hand and he stands, teasing me once again as he says, "I believe it is one of my more endearing qualities." I laugh a little and impulsively give him a little sideways hug, though I know it embarrasses him. He simply stands there and lets me hug him, looking slightly uncomfortable. He nods at me then in thanks and takes his leave, flexing his fingers as if testing them.

"Remember what I said!" I yell out the door after him, smiling to myself when he gives me a brief wave in response. I close the door, shaking my head and still puzzling over the enigma that is Tristan. Yawning widely once again, I head over to my bed and flop down on it, entirely ready to fall back asleep. I am just about to do that when there is another knock at my door. I groan and then call out, "Yes?"

"Kate, it is Vanora." I sit up in surprise and then hurry to answer the door. When Vanora comes here, it is usually because one or more of her children are sick. However, when I open the door, there is no look of distress on Vanora's face, nor is there a child at her side. She is alone, which is rare for her. She laughs at the dumbfounded expression on my face and says, "Yes, I found freedom today." I step aside to let her in, startled when she asks, "Did my eyes deceive me, or did I see Tristan walking away from here just now?"

"Why would Tristan come here?" I ask evasively, a tiny tone of defensiveness creeping into my words. Vanora holds up her hands in supplication and says, "Peace, Kate. I meant nothing by it. Come now, it is time you had a break." I give her a perplexed look and question, "Pardon me, but a break from what?" She makes a sweeping gesture, encompassing the entire room, and tells me, "A break from all this. It's time you had one. Come, we're going for a walk, and you're leaving everything behind. No healing today." Appalled at what she is saying, I move to protest, but she holds up her hand, apparently unwilling to hear it.

Before I can say a word, she seizes my arm and propels me towards the door, saying, "A break will not harm you Kate." I sputter for a moment before answering, "You are right, but it might harm others!" She gives a little snort and says, "You have held this village together for almost fifteen years, it will not fall apart in one day." She gives me another rather hard tug and I yelp a little, muttering sulkily, "That hurt." The grin she gives me is almost cheeky as she says, "You will get over it."

She insists on dragging me away from the fortress until I give up, following her without protest. She then releases her hold on me and instead hooks her arm with mine, giving me that cheeky grin of hers as she says, "You see? This isn't so terrible, is it?" I scowl at her and she laughs, saying that I am worse than her children when it comes to sulking. Unable to help myself, I stick my tongue out at her in response.

At first, we walk in silence. The only words that she speaks are to the people who try to approach me. She gives them a warning look as they approach me, and when they do not heed this warning, she chases them off with a few choice words. After awhile, it gets rather amusing, and in my head I begin to refer to her as my personal guard. After the fifth person tries to approach me, I start to laugh a little. The noise attracts her attention and she says, "Ah, it laughs. I was beginning to wonder."

"Oh hush. I am not that bad." I glance around, noticing that we're headed away from the village and ask, "Where are we going?" She winks at me and mysteriously replies, "You shall see." I make a noise of frustration but don't bother voicing another protest, having learned already that it will not matter. Part of me wonders if she has lost her mind. I eye her suspiciously, studying her movements carefully. Without looking at me, she suddenly announces, "I am not mad." I stop in my tracks and with incredulity in my tone demand, "How do you _do_ that?"

It seems like an eternity before we reach Vanora's mystery destination. When I first lay eyes on the small clearing I find myself speechless. It is paradise. The trees shade it perfectly from the sun, though they let in just enough light to allow dozens upon dozens of flowers to grow. Running through the middle of this oasis is a small stream, just deep enough to reach my knees. Vanora laughs at the expression on my face and murmurs, "This is my escape, Kate. I wanted to share it with you."

"Why?" I ask, only half aware that I am even speaking. She smiles at me and says, "I have never known a truer friend than you. I have wanted to show you this sooner, yet certain things have gotten in the way. Like your work." She gives me a guileless smile when I shoot her a dirty look, though I find I cannot take offense to it in light of what she has just shown me. She walks on ahead and I burst out laughing when she suddenly leaps into the small stream, making a rather large splash as she does. I join her, though I enter the water a little more gingerly, gasping as the seemingly freezing water encompasses my feet.

"Look." She says pointing up. I look up and smile broadly when I see the sky suddenly fill with a large flock of birds, dotting the sky above us. I suddenly feel at peace, as if some of the worries just left my mind, taking flight with those birds up above. I stretch out my arms and close my eyes, inhaling deeply as I feel little spots of light on my face. For a moment, I am already free. I savor the moment, keeping each sensation locked into a little corner of my heart, never to be forgotten. I open my eyes and speak my earlier thought aloud, "This is paradise." I let out a little yelp when cold water is splashed onto me. I quickly retaliate; cupping my hands together and splashing water back at Vanora furiously. She lets out a squeal as the water splashes over her back, and I pause to laugh at her as she hops up and down, cursing at me.

This begins an all out war between the two of us, and before long we are both completely drenched from head to toe and breathless from laughter. An unspoken truce is struck as we both collapse onto the soft grass nearby, still helpless with giggles. After awhile, our laughter fades away and a silence creeps up on us. It is not uncomfortable or strained at all, and it is rather enjoyable. Back in the village, there is always noise, most of it unpleasant. Out here, there is nothing but the wind in the trees and the sound of the water rushing by. After several long moments, she turns her head to look at me, prompting me to do the same.

"My daughter hasn't stopped talking about your little adventure." She says, and I immediately know that she has found out the truth about my hand. I snort a little and say, "I'm sure she's revealed much to you." Vanora gives me a gentle smile and says, "She wants to be a healer now, when she grows up." I smile broadly at this, pleased that the girl has taken an interest. I had worried since she was born that she would not see anything for herself in the future except the traditional role of wife and mother. Vanora's tone becomes amused when she mentions, "Bors is beside himself. He tried to argue with her last night about it… he lost, of course." I burst out laughing at this, picturing Bors' bewildered expression as the little girl makes her case. He has given me the same expression on many occasions.

"I want to thank you," she continues, her tone now serious, "for letting her accompany you. I admit, I have little time for her… but knowing that you are looking out for her… it means much to me." I give her a gentle smile and say, "I enjoyed her company. She is a sweet child." I pause for a moment and then darkly continue, "I daresay she will be the closest thing to a daughter I will come to." Vanora makes a small 'tsk' noise and protests, "Kate, do not do this to yourself. You are still young and healthy… there is still time." I turn completely on my side to look at her full on and softly say, "Vanora, will you be honest with me?" She raises an eyebrow at me and scoffs, "I always am, Kate."

"Is… is there something undesirable about me?" I blurt out, my cheeks reddening immediately after I say it. She makes a face at me and vehemently says, "No Kate. There is nothing about you that is undesirable." I frown a little and then darkly murmur, "Then why…?" There is no need for me to finish my statement, as Vanora immediately responds, "I think it is because you are a new breed." I give her an incredulous look and she chuckles a bit, sitting up to put her feet back into the stream.

"You are different from every other woman and not necessarily in a bad way. You are the first woman that this village has seen become a healer, normally a man's job. It is impressive and, unfortunately, some men are thick-headed enough to think that they will be marrying a woman more accomplished than they. They think it will shame them, the dense fools." My heart sinks at this, and I begin to despair. Will I always be identified by my work, as if that is everything one needs to know about me? Will I always be alone? My eyes sting with tears, and I feel Vanora's hand land on my shoulder, trying to comfort me.

"But I believe you will find someone." She says softly, her voice warm, "Someone who admires your skills and who understands you; who knows you better than you know yourself." I give a half smile and say, "You sound as if you already know this paragon of manhood." She simply gives me a mysterious smile. I sit upright quickly, alerted by it, and suspiciously say, "Who are you thinking of Vanora?" She shrugs a little and then carefully watches my face as she answers, "I was thinking… maybe you will find your man among the knights?" I draw away from her and laugh, thinking she is jesting with me. When I see that she is actually serious, my laughter dies and in its place is genuine surprise.

"What are you thinking of?" I ask rhetorically, my eyes wide, "I could never be with one of them. They… they are brothers, not…." My protests die off weakly, and I find myself lying back down in defeat, already imagining it. I shake the thoughts from my head and strengthen my voice as I say, "No. It could never be. They want a pretty wife, someone who would be wholly devoted to them, and nothing else. They would want a veritable slave."

"You are so harsh Kate!" Vanora laughs, "I am no slave to Bors, and you know that." I secretly wonder at the truth of this, as I have seen her bend to his will time and time again. Wisely, however, I keep my opinion to myself. I shake my head and persist, "I am not what they want." She leans closer to me then and mysteriously says, "I doubt that, I truly do." My face heats up then and she chuckles, delighting in my flustered state.

Our conversation shifts to lighter subjects, but in my heart I continue to ponder over what Vanora has just said. Could it really be possible? Could I ever be wanted by one of the knights? The thought seems incredible to me, as if someone had told me that it was possible to reach out and touch the moon. . I see their faces now, and I feel my face heats up once again as I imagine being with them. After a long while, Vanora gives me a sideways look and slyly says, "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing!" I answer, my reply far too fast and far too defensive. Her expression turns smug and I somehow manage to resist pushing her head under the water.


	5. Duty

**_Disclaimer;_**** See part one**

**Notes: I don't know if anyone will have noticed, but the first few chapters have been slightly altered. My beta just pointed out to me that I've been spelling one of the character's names wrong. So I fixed it, took out all of my ramblings as well in the process. So thanks to my beta! To continue, I do want to mention that the rating of this might go up soon, because of the next chapter or two (you'll see what I mean later). So enjoy chapter 5!**

**Duty**

I have never felt this way before. I have never felt like I am trying to crawl out of my own skin with anticipation and restlessness. I have never been this fidgety and nervous before. I count the hours until our freedom with a delicious sense of satisfaction, even as I worry over what will become of us all. It is bittersweet, this state I am in. Half of me wishes the gods would spare me this torture and speed up time altogether, to give me what I crave so desperately. The other half wants to dig my heels into the ground and stop time altogether. I abhor the idea of having my knights taken from me. This part of me does not want anything to change, no matter how much I detest the situation. My soul has been entered into a queer kind of tug-of-war between these two feelings, and I feel even more trapped than I had to begin with. The naïve part of me imagines that when the hour of freedom is upon me, my destiny will be revealed like magic. I cling to this hope even as I doubt its credibility.

Gawain, it seems, has entered his own personal battle. He visits me more often than ever, seeking solace. He never speaks his fears aloud to me, but I can tell by the look in his eyes that he is confused and perhaps even a little frightened about the future. His memories of Sarmatia are as mine, faded and idealized. I believe that he too fears that he will find it much changed, and no longer to his liking. In many ways, when I speak my fears to him, they mirror his almost exactly. I enjoy his company so much that any thought of no longer having it brings tears to my eyes.

Lancelot too is affected by the promise of freedom. In an attempt to speed events along, he throws himself into his ale. Two days after my little excursion with Vanora, he showed up at my quarters, completely out of his mind from the drink. Blood trickled from a wound on his forehead, and he practically collapsed onto me when I opened the door to him. I patched him up, employing the services of Jols, who had been the one to bring him to me, to take him back to his own quarters. As he was lead away, I gave a long suffering sigh in response to the phrase he drunkenly shouted back at me over his shoulder, a phrase I hear far too often. He said to me, "What would I do without you, Kate?" Even now, just as I think the phrase, I shudder. When the words are spoken to me, I feel as if I am some sort of mother to them, a position I would prefer not to be likened to.

The others have reacted in many other ways. Tristan remains the same, as mysterious as ever. He seems so sure of his place in the world, though he never reveals it to any one else. Bors agonizes over a decision that will affect the lives of not only him and Vanora, but their children as well. Should he stay and marry his long-time lover, or will he go off to find fortune somewhere else? Galahad is eager to leave and return to Sarmatia, but I do not think it is completely out of loyalty to our homeland. I believe he wishes to escape the tyranny of Rome, even for a little while. He has little patience for their pomp and circumstance, their meaningless ceremony and their endless stipulations. I cannot blame him for his position.

Arthur, in direct opposition to Galahad, is eager to return to Rome. There is order there, he claims, and reason. I doubt his words, but I say nothing to him directly. I do not want to shatter illusions. I want to believe in Arthur's vision of Rome, yet I find that after fifteen years of enslavement to their ever-changing will dampens my sincerity in this regard. He speaks of a man named Pelagius, who taught him everything he knows about equality and justice. He seems eager to rejoin this man. Another mystery is Dagonet. He never speaks of home, as he rarely speaks at all. It seems that he is content to live in this moment and not look to the uncertain future. He is unconcerned, and I envy this about him. Bors speaks of keeping Dagonet with him to work for him once _he_ becomes a leader, but it is always said in jest. I worry for Dagonet, for if I do not, who will?

Now, I have the addition of a last minute mission to worry about. I watch as they mount their horses, each of them eager to get their mission over and done with. It is only a minor mission, according to Arthur, but I have heard those words before and was forced to patch up what was left of them once they returned to the fortress. Today, on their very last day of service, they are to escort a Bishop Germanus to the safety of the Hadrian's Wall. A rumor of Rome's withdrawal from Briton has made the natives of the land, the Woads, reckless with their attacks. They no longer fear the wrath of Rome.

I peer up at Lancelot as he mounts his horse, shading my eyes from the sun. He smiles at me, reaching down to touch my chin gently as he says, "Do not fear, Kate. We shall all return. And when we do, we expect to celebrate our freedom." I sigh a little and reach up to hand him a little bundle, saying, "At least take this with you, just in case." He nods at me, taking the herbs. He gives me a half grin and nods at me in farewell. My heart practically leaps into my throat as he spurs his horse into a fast gallop, speeding away from me before I can protest. The others follow suit, most looking back to wave at me. Gawain is the last to leave, and his eyes linger on the fortress longer than the others.

Vanora appears at my elbow just as Gawain disappears over the hills in the distance. Her voice is heavy with sadness as she says, "I cannot believe that today is the last day…." She lets her sentence hang, not that she needs to finish it. I look at her briefly and say, "Nor can I. It seems like a dream. I can only hope the gods are watching out for them today." She nods and for a moment I imagine I see tears in her eyes. But when she turns her head, there is nothing there but that sadness. I impulsively give her a sideways hug and say, "You have been a true friend Vanora." She shudders a bit as I say it and quietly asks, "So you are leaving then?" I sigh, pulling away, and murmur in response, "I still do not know. I have so many questions I have yet to answer."

"I know that you will make the right choice, whatever it may be." She replies. She leaves then to return to her children, and I watch her leave. I can sense her depression even now as she walks away, and I know she is afraid of what will happen to her and the children if Bors decides to leave them. My heart goes out to her, and I can only hope that Bors will take care of his responsibilities. I lift my bag up off of the dusty ground and hoist it up onto my shoulder. I had promised to visit a family to treat their son's cough some time ago, and now is the last time I will get a chance. The thought brings a trill of both excitement and terror to my heart, which I quickly attempt to squelch.

I brush the hair from my eyes and begin to head in the direction of the family's home. There is a bounce to my step that I just can't stop, and I find myself grinning at people I pass like a fiend. I must look quite silly, but I can't help it. For now, my excitement has won over my body. The air around me practically vibrates with my intense feelings. I am invited into the home by a woman with a frazzled, fretful expression on her face. I find her son lying in bed, blankets piled high around him. He seems exasperated to be there, and he looks at me with pleading eyes. I smile at him and say, "How do you feel?" He shrugs and rather sullenly says, "I want to play outside, but mama won't let me." I chuckle a bit at this and begin to examine him, humming happily to myself as I do. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the mother and father of the boy exchange glances with one another, and so I stop with a little clearing of my throat.

There is nothing terribly wrong with the boy and so I am able to leave sooner than I had anticipated. They all look rather puzzled when I whistle happily to myself as I take my leave, giving them a nod as I do. Arthur had assured me that they would return that very same day, and with all of our discharge papers in hand. I had given him a confused look at this and he told me that the papers were the reason the Bishop came here, and that was why most of the men were pleased to go on this last mission of theirs. I had laughed a little, but now that I think about it, I feel the same way they do about it all. I feel as if I am already done and finished with the whole thing. This is simply a formality now.

If I were not so frightened about the consequences, I would pack my things and leave without my papers.

Just then, my thoughts are broken into as I am accosted by another woman who begs me to see to her daughter, who also suffers from a cough. I fleetingly wonder if the boy gave it to her, but quickly decide that it doesn't really matter. It takes much longer to deal with these people, as when I try to tell them that she will be fine and that the cough will quickly subside, they are not satisfied with my findings and pretty much order me to look her over again. With a little mental shrug, I do as they tell me and come to the same conclusion. I give them a little bundle of tea for them to give to her and then take my leave, not liking the way they treat me. They do not say goodbye, nor do I.

I head back to my room to wait for the knights to return. As I wait, I begin to gather my things in preparation to pack. I do not have much to bring with me, and I am not sure when I will be leaving, but I feel like doing it all the same. It gives me something to do other than worry and let myself go mad over the anticipation. I eat a bit of leftover bread that was left on my table as I work, though I am not sure how old it is. My thoughts are constantly on the upcoming events. I do not know what the Romans will want us to do at this point, though I am sure they will have some ceremony or some such thing for us to deal with. I briefly wonder what this Bishop will be like, if he will be kind to me or dismissive, as so many who meet me are.

It seems as if I have only just started to pack when I hear the sound of the Roman guards shouting that there are riders approaching the gates. I look outside and it is actually much later than I thought; the sky is slightly darker. I let out an excited, girlish squeal and rush to the door, throwing it open and running down towards the gates. I have to lift the hem of my dress up slightly to keep from tripping, showing an unseemly amount of leg to a few men that pass me. I feel my face heat up, but find myself brushing it off rather fast as I reach my usual waiting place.

I bounce on the heels of my feet as I wait impatiently for the knights to reappear. It seems to take them much longer than usual, and it is not just my perception that makes me think this. Even the guards seem rather impatient at the slowness of their arrival, though they are privy to the reason; while I am not. After a few painfully long minutes, I can faintly make out the sounds of approaching horses, the shouts of men mingling amongst them freely. One of the guards looks back to me with a smile and shouts, "Fear not Kate, they are all well." I relax completely, waving back at him in thanks for the news. I will longer need to shoulder this burden of being left behind on these missions; this is the last time I will be forced into this situation.

Finally, the gates open once more. I am only mildly surprised to see the Roman soldiers enter first, their armor glinting like jewels in the sunlight. I am also unsurprised to see the splatters of blood that decorates their fronts like spilled paint on a wall. They barely glance at me as they pass on their magnificent horses, but I am not surprised, nor do I take offence to it. I'm sure that there were more of them not so long ago, and their minds are probably still on their fallen comrades. Moments later, the knights come into the gates once again. Each of their faces shines as if lit by beacons, and I know they are relishing in their victory.

They leap off of their horses one by one as they enter; slapping each other on the back in what I assume is congratulations or something along those lines. Gawain is the first to envelop me in his arms, squeezing me so tight that I am forced to gasp out his name. He loosens the hold with a murmured apology and then continues, "Kate… Kate we're free!" I laugh a little at the awe and wonder in his tone, and for a moment we both suspend our fears. He pulls back a little, though he doesn't release me entirely. His eyes lock with mine for a moment, and I feel as if my heart wishes to leap straight from my chest. For a moment, a strange feeling creeps over me and I become frightened by it. I clear my throat nervously, looking away from him as I do; effectively breaking whatever spell had been cast upon us. The awkward moment does not pass straight away and I find myself stammering, "Y-you are well, G-Gawain?"

"Yes, he is well!" Bors replies on Gawain's behalf, and I look up in time to see Gawain jerk forward as Bors claps him on the back with a hearty chuckle. He does not seem to feel the tension between Gawain and I as he crows, "He is well enough to be thinking about home and all the women he wishes to bed there." Gawain gives him a black look, but Bors is oblivious to it, saying, "Have you not heard of Gawain's beautiful Sarmatian woman? The one he wishes to wed once he is home?" I force a laugh and say, "She must be a patient woman, to have waited so long." I glance at Gawain and am alarmed to see how pale he has suddenly become. I am about to enquire after his health when he suddenly seems to pull away, both physically and emotionally. I can only stare after him, puzzled to no end at his behavior.

Bors moves off as well before I can question him, and I simply shrug it off for the time being. Just as I am about to look around for Lancelot, I feel a hand on my shoulder. As I turn, Lancelot pulls his face into a comical pout, whining, "Do you not have a greeting for me as well, Kate?" I laugh brightly, hugging him tight. He wraps his arms around me as well, and he brings his mouth to my ear to ask, "What has Gawain done to you now? You looked unhappy for a moment there." I flush a bit and reply, "He has done nothing, Lancelot. I think it is just last minute fears, or something of that sort. Pay it no mind." I silently beg him to obey me and he does, releasing me with a bright smile.

Just then, the arrival of a rather beat up carriage makes us both pause. I tilt my head slightly as I watch it make its way into the safety of the fortress. I shade my eyes from the sun and as I do, I just barely make out the man inside. He looks every inch the distinguished man, though he is clad in the uniform of an officer. I know he must be more than that, especially as he looks at me. It is both imperious and disgusted at the same time. He knows he must be here, yet it brings him no pleasure. I glance up at Lancelot and quietly ask, "Is that Bishop Germanus?" Lancelot nods and says, "Yes. He is the one with our discharge papers." I glance back at the carriage, which has now come to a stop in the courtyard. Jols rushes to the carriage at Arthur's prompting, opening the door for the Bishop.

The man appears pompous from where I stand, and I find myself disliking him already. I can tell that Lancelot shares his view, as his face tightens slightly at the sight of him. I overhear the faint strains of their conversation as Arthur and the Bishop exchange a few words. I overhear that we are expected to convene later to discuss business, and my heart leaps at the words, knowing exactly what he speaks of. Lancelot takes his leave then, and I watch as he walks away. I want to follow him, but I know that now is not the time to be pestering him.

After the comings and goings of the earlier day, it alarms me how fast time seems to fly by. Night comes upon us swiftly, and I soon find myself joining the others at the round table. My heart is dampened, as always, when I see how many empty places there are at the table now. Where there was once a hundred knights, there is now only seven and one healer girl. It almost seems unfair that I have been allowed to live and they have not. I shake away those thoughts as quickly as I can, not wanting to think such thoughts on a night like this. I smile at the others as they glance around the table, and I imagine they must be thinking the same thoughts as I had been.

We stand behind our seats patiently, waiting for Arthur to arrive. When he does, I am impressed at the sight of him as I usually am when he is dressed in his Roman attire. He exudes a certain confidence and pride in wearing this gear, and the uniform was made just for him. I have never seen any other Roman wear that uniform as Arthur does. He nods at us all and we all nod back reverently, all except for Lancelot, who bows almost mockingly with a smirk on his face. I allow myself a little smile as he teases, "Hail Arthur!" All teasing is quickly set aside as Arthur takes his goblet of wine that had been placed in front of him earlier and lifts it in a toast. We all follow suit, solemnity further seizing the room as he says, "Let us raise our wine to all those whom we have loved and lost during this most turbulent of trials. Their sacrifice shall not be in vain, nor shall it be forgotten."

We each pour a small amount of wine onto the floor before taking a sip ourselves, all in memory of the fallen knights. I glance around at the others, and I am not surprised in the least to see sadness in their eyes. What does surprise me, however, is the glistening of tears in the eyes of Bors. We all politely pretend not to notice, though I am sure most of us are fully aware of it. Finally, the black mood is broken as Bors overcomes his tears and shouts, "To freedom!" This immediately brings smiles back to everyone's faces, and we all readily drink to that.

Just as we all break into easy chatter of home, the heavy wooden doors are swung open to reveal a thin little man. He reminds me of a weasel as he stands there, his chest puffed out in false importance as he begins to announce his master, arrogantly saying, "His Eminence…." He opens his eyes then and for the first time, he sees the round table in front of him. I cannot hide my amusement as an expression that could only be described as horror crosses his features. He continues with his announcement, only his voice is now weak and rather shaky as he says, "Bishop Gnaeus Germanus." The Bishop enters the room then, flanked by two Roman officers. He pauses at the sight of the table, though he reacts to it far more gracefully than the weasel man. It is when his eyes land on me that he looses this composure, sniffing, "Excuse me madam, but this is no place for a serving girl. You may leave now."

"She is no serving girl." Lancelot practically hisses before I can respond, "She is one of us." The other knights nod almost in unison, and I am rather touched by their display of loyalty towards me. The Bishop casts an uncertain gaze towards Arthur, who simply looks back at him levelly, making it clear that he is behind his knights on this issue. The weasel man looks in danger of fainting as the events unfold before him and I wait to see what the Bishop will do next. I do not bother speaking or making any other movement to plead my own case, not seeing the point. The Bishop sends me a rather vicious glare and moves to sit down at Arthur's prompting.

"I was expecting more of you." The Bishop says, rather unkindly, and a few of the knights bristle at his tone, most notably Galahad. I note that his hand creeps towards the hilt of his sword, his back straight and his entire body tense as he looks at the Bishop. I only half listen as Arthur explains the situation to the Bishop, and they fall into a meaningless exchange of pleasantries. The Bishop is obviously trying to cover up for his earlier blunder, and begins to ply Arthur and the others with compliments. I begin to wonder why the Bishop won't simply give us our papers and leave. More wine is served, and the Bishop lifts his glass to the rest of us, saying, "To your last days of service to the empire."

Something about what he says alerts me, and it only occurs to me what it is when I overhear Bors whispering to Lancelot, "Shouldn't that be _day_?" Suspicion immediately rises up amongst us, and Galahad begins to practically quiver in his seat, just looking for an excuse to erupt. The Bishop seems to note his blunder, and quickly says, "This wine is from His Holiness' own vineyard; he inquires after you all and sends his best wishes." I speak up for the first time, quietly asking, "What exactly does he inquire after?" The Bishop looks at me briefly as he answers, "He is naturally curious about the state of your souls. He wonders if you have converted to the word of our savior, or if you continue to cling to… other religions?"

There is silence for a moment before Arthur interjects, "My men retain the religions of their forefathers. I do not question them." I lose interest once again as they begin to discuss their own religion. I have never had much interest for Christianity, though I do not mind it. I remember seeing a statue of the Virgin once. I knew immediately that the religion must have been founded by males, as the goddess was very pretty. I fleetingly wonder how they worship her as I swirl what is left of my wine around in my glass. After a moment, I catch the eye of Gawain and make a face at him. He masks his chuckle with a delicate cough, though his eyes practically dance with merriment.

My attention is seized once more when one of the guards standing behind Germanus steps forward, a large wooden box in hand. The Bishop takes it from him and sets it down on the table to face us. We all nearly leap out of our seats when the scrolls are revealed. Germanus ignores our reactions and says, "Unfortunately, it has been decided that Rome has no place in this barbarian land. The Holy Father and Rome have decided that to continue to attempt to gain control of Briton would be… preposterous." He waves a hand and offhandedly and says, "I suppose the Saxons will claim it." I stare at the Bishop, stunned by this revelation. The deaths of the knights who once sat at this table seem evermore wasteful now.

"The Saxons?" Gawain questions incredulously, his eyebrows raised. We all know full well that the Saxons claim what they kill, and they kill everything in their path. I feel sympathy for the Woads, knowing full well that they will not receive their land back just yet. Germanus seems oblivious to the mood in the room as he announces, "In any case, these are your discharge papers." All of us get up from our seats, fully prepared to seize the papers whether he wants us to or not, but we are all halted when he continues, "However, I would like to speak with your commander first." When we are all silent, he continues, "Alone."

"We have no secrets." Arthur says, but I know it is a lost cause immediately from the hard look on the Bishop's face. Lancelot is the first to break the tension, saying, "Come. We will leave Roman business to Romans." With that, we all leave the room, Tristan pausing only to take his glass with him, pouring what's left of the wine onto the floor before pocketing it. As we enter the hallway, mumbling our greetings to Jols as we pass him, I sullenly mutter, "Pompous windbag." The others laugh a little at my insult, Galahad taking the opportunity to add, "Why won't he just give us our papers?"

"Ceremony." Gawain says cryptically and Galahad snarls something under his breath, his hand traveling back towards his sword as he does. As we exit the hallway and step into the cool night air, Lancelot suddenly turns towards me and announces, "You will join us for a celebration in honour of our freedom." I pause at this, my eyes widening slightly as I say, "What, now?" He chuckles and says, "Yes now. Come on Kate, you never come with us." I sputter a protest but soon find myself being lifted into the air by Dagonet of all people.

"Dagonet!" I shriek, "You traitorous dog!" The others find it immensely funny as I am carried to their infamous courtyard howling in protest, beating my hands against Dagonet's rather large back. We pass Vanora and I snarl at her, "Don't say a word." She nods, instead laughing heartily at my predicament. I am set down at a table eventually, and Dagonet gives me an apologetic smile as he backs away from me. I find that I can only remain angry with him for a few moments before I begrudgingly smile back at him. I tense up almost completely as I realize I am being looked at by several of the Roman guards who are already partially drunk. Luckily for me, Dagonet decides to stay close and sends them a look that plainly tells them that I am off limits. I try to make myself as small as possible so as not to be noticed as I watch the knights get bombarded by women. I try to keep the scowl from my face as I watch not one, but two women drape themselves on Lancelot, cooing at him in a way that I assume is supposed to be enticing.

"Later." I hear him say, his voice loaded with promise as he extracts himself from their embrace. They pout after him as he heads towards a group of men, rubbing his hands together. I watch as they begin to gamble and wait for a fight to break out. A little time passes and I soon find myself getting over my initial fear. Vanora comes by often to chat with me when she can, and she offers me a mug of ale each time she does come. It's not as bad as I thought and soon I find myself talking with the soldiers about whatever springs to mind. It is while I am doing this that Gawain and Galahad tip over a table together and start throwing knives at it for fun, trying to see which of them has the better aim. I find it quite funny that Gawain still has more skill than Galahad even with a woman hanging off of one arm and about four mugs of ale in his belly. All of us jump when another blade appears from nowhere, landing right in the middle of one that Galahad had just thrown.

"Tristan, how do you do that?" Gawain asks his voice light with awe. I laugh louder than necessary when Tristan replies, "I aim for the middle." Gawain twists round in his seat and looks at me carefully. I give him a cheeky grin in return, bursting into laughter once again when he deadpans, "No more ale for Kate." He smiles at my reaction, though his attention is quickly diverted by the girl on his arm, who glowers at me when he is not paying attention as if I were out to steal him from her. I simply stare back at her, disliking her yet not caring enough to take action. I am startled out of my stupor as a commotion suddenly arises at Lancelot's table.

I am not concerned as I see Lancelot draw his twin swords, holding them at the throats of two Romans, a very dangerous look on his face. He could take their heads clean off with one flick of his wrist, and I am not the only one who knows this. He says something to them, his smile becoming icy as he says it. I glance over to Galahad, noticing that he has targeted another Roman who has prepared to save his comrades. The man backs off at the sight of Galahad, who needs very little provocation at this moment in time. Dagonet, who had disappeared some time ago, suddenly reappears, walking past the Roman in Galahad's sights. We all laugh as he simply lifts a massive fist and brings it down on the Roman's head, effectively bringing him off of his feet. The tension is dismantled by the act and Lancelot withdraws his swords, leaving his would-be victims to save their unconscious friend.

I look at Dagonet closely, noting the troubled look on his face as he stops to talk to Lancelot. The quiet man stands near Lancelot, nodding when he says something to him. Dagonet's distinctive voice seems to float over all the rest as he says, "Arthur comes." This announcement carries with it no pleasure, and we all know that something bad is about to occur. We stand, eyeing Arthur warily as he approaches us. We convene in the middle of the yard and I notice how everyone else seems to fall silent, as if trying to overhear the conversation. Arthur's face is heavy with regret as he looks at each one of us in turn before he says, "We leave at first light."

The announcement brings confusion in the others at first, but I am immediately alarmed by what he has said. I find myself reaching for the nearest person, Gawain, clutching onto his arm as if to keep him with me. Arthur speaks again, and when he does all confusion is swept away by disbelief and rage.

"There is one final mission Rome requires of us," he continues, "and it will take us far from the wall. There is a Roman family in need of rescue." I sag against Gawain, devastated by what Arthur has said. Gawain supports me easily, though it appears that he is not aware of it. He gapes at Arthur, horror now entering his gaze. Bors is the first to react to the news, smashing his mug against a nearby wall as he snarls, "Roman bastards!" My eyes return to Arthur, and I note the flinch he gives at Bors' reaction.

"Bors is right!" Galahad says, his voice fierce, "We are free men now. I say we are done with our duty here… if it ever was a duty. It is done!" I am startled as Tristan speaks, his voice seemingly unnaturally calm as he says, "We are all going to die someday. If it is the thought of death at the hands of Saxons that frightens you then, stay where you are." Galahad turns on him then, hissing, "You may be eager to give your life, but I am not. Some of us have something worth living for." Gawain moves to his friend, placing a hand on his arm to calm him, though he still seems prepared to lunge at any moment.

Everyone's attention is brought to Dagonet, who suddenly moves forward toward Arthur. I do not blame Arthur as he looks up at the big man with a degree of nervousness. We all watch as he leans closer to Arthur and asks, "The Romans have broken their word. Do we have the word of Arthur?" The honesty is plain on Arthur's face as he replies, "Yes. You have my word." Dagonet appears satisfied by his response, and says, "Then that is enough for me. I will prepare." He turns then and leaves without another word. Tristan steps forward and nods at Arthur as well, his face as unreadable as ever. Everything suddenly seems to be spinning out of control, and I cannot help saying, "This is sheer madness."

No longer having Tristan to take his anger out on, Galahad turns on me in an instant. I stare at him impassively as he snarls at me, "What does it matter to you?! You know nothing of battle; you are assured safety here, no matter what you do! _You have no right to protest! You do not understand what it is like for us!_" Everything seems to freeze around us in this one moment, and I find myself speechless for quite some time in the face of the despair his words bring. It was almost as if it were no longer Galahad speaking, but some demon inside of him.

"No," I say in a deadly calm voice, "you're right. I do not know what it is like for you. But I do know what it is like here. I know what it is like to wait at those gates and watch your brothers leave and wonder who it is that will not return. I know what it is like to receive the remains of men at my door in the middle of the night. I know what it's like to have an entire village expect you to magically fix the wounded and dying, and I know what it's like to let them down. I know what it's like to be covered in blood; I know what it's like to hold a dying child to your chest and wonder why you are here, why you are being tortured this way and why you are unable to die yourself. I know what it's like to be helpless and wish to any god that you could fight and die on the field of battle and know that you actually _lived_ for something, that your life had _some_ sort of meaning to it. No. I don't know what it's like for you. But _you_ don't know what it's like for _me_."

With that, I turn on my heel and stride out of the courtyard without another word. My heart hammers in my chest, but I do not linger on this for long. As soon as I am out of view, I begin to run, unable to stand the pain any longer. I had always seen Galahad as a brother, a true friend who would never hurt me. Deep down, I know that he did not truly mean what he said, yet the petty side of me still resents him terribly. I fly towards my room, and slam the door behind me when I make it, finally letting myself give into tears in the solitude. With my back pressed against the door, I let myself slide down until I hit the floor, curling up into myself as I do. I bring my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around my legs as I sob.

Things have never been worse.

**[Next chapter]**

**As the knights leave on their final mission, Germanus reveals his true colours to Kate.**


	6. Germanus

**Author Manic P**

**Disclaimer I do not own, oh Lordy how I do not own. **

**Author's Notes hangs head in shame yeah… four months later. I am really truly sorry! I really AM! But it wasn't my fault for once, I promise. Nope, it was computer troubles. You see, I started university in the fall, and as soon as I plugged my laptop into their crappy system… you guessed it. Virus. Only it wasn't just one, oh no, it was over A THOUSAND! So I took it into Staples… bad idea. Incompetent boobs wouldn't know a keyboard from their mother's asshole (sorry) and it took them SEVEN WEEKS (WTF?!?!) to get it fixed. And how did they fix it, you ask? BY ERASING EVERYTHING I HAD! Including a brand spankin' new chapter. I only just got back my (precious) laptop, and I had no real way of letting people know what was going on. So… long story short… I'm not dead! YAY!**

**So here's the next chapter. It's getting good now (I think so anyway). Grossness at the end. Slight fluff before that. SNUGGLES TO THE REVIEWERS! (PS- that new C2 Coke… yeah, ½ calories and ½ carbohydrates… yet it's making me hyper)**

**_Germanus_**

Cold has crept into my limbs like a snake's most vicious venom. It is almost poetic, in a way. Now the outer part of my body is just like the inside. Frozen. Unable to feel. My tears have long since stopped and I have remained in my position against the wall, rocking slightly. I am unable to even think about what happened tonight, too overwrought to deal with it now. Instead, I shut my mind off to everything and focus instead on my rocking and the numbing cold. My head pounds rhythmically, providing just that much more discomfort. It is like I am being struck repeatedly in the head and I deeply wish I could escape the pain. I feel as though my sanity is about to slip as I wait for each painful throb to assault me again and again.

I am like a child once more, frightened and lost in the dark. Only this time, I have no Mother's warm embrace, nor Father's kind eyes. I have no teasing Lancelot; no sweet Gawain. I have only the cold as my comforting companion. My eyes have fixed on the wall in front of me and have barely moved since then. Anything to keep from feeling; to keep from remembering. I am not aware of just how much time has passed but it seems like an eternity and more. I feel as though I have aged just as much.

Suddenly, the pounding in my head seems to be replaced by a very odd thumping. I wince as the pain increases and can't help the whimper that is torn from my aching throat. I frown after a moment, the thumping becoming louder and much more insistent. My mind begins to thaw just enough for me to understand that there is someone at my door, begging for entrance. I turn my head slightly, reacting to it without thinking, and I wince once more as my neck protests the movement. The thumping is quickly joined by a soft, almost regretful voice. I let my eyes drift shut in misery as I recognize the voice of Gawain as he says, "Kate? Kate, please, let me in." I want to respond, but for a few moments I am unable to.

"Kate?" he questions, his voice vibrating with just a touch of alarm now. With a slight amount of amusement, I wonder if he thinks I have hurt myself, or worse. Shaking my head slightly, I hoarsely call back, "What is it Gawain?" His voice is relieved now as he says, "Let me in. I want to see you." Sighing deeply, I mumble to myself, "Go away." Out loud, however, I numbly say, "Leave me be Gawain. I am not in the mood for company."

"I don't care." He replies stubbornly, hitting the door once more to accentuate his words. I raise an eyebrow as he continues, "If you don't open the damned door I'll…." He falters here, apparently summoning up his will before continuing, "I will have this door in splinters, so help me." The threat surprises me, but I have no doubt that he would carry through with it. Exhaling sharply, I slowly get to my feet, my body announcing my aches all over again. I walk over to the door, feeling lightheaded and a little dizzy. When I open it, my eyes fall on the sight of Gawain, axe hefted over his head as he is about to break in my door.

"Gawain!" I yelp, rushing towards him. He pauses in mid-motion as I close my hands around his wrists and gives me a slightly sheepish grin. I can't help but laugh at his expression, and I release his hands, shaking my head at him. He sets aside his weapon and wraps his arms around me. As soon as I feel those warm, friendly arms close around me I feel better. I lean into his embrace, feeling my walls crumble all over again, and whisper his name. My voice carries with it a distinct amount of pain, and he shushes me gently, murmuring, "I know."

"It isn't fair…." I whisper, my voice becoming more heated as I repeat, "It isn't fair, Gawain." I feel his hand in my hair and I relish the touch as he makes a low noise of agreement. After indulging in the embrace for just a second longer, I pull back slightly to say, "Don't accept the mission. You could leave-"

"And be hunted down like a dog, Kate?" he questions, and I don't miss the note of bitterness in his voice. I hadn't expected him to agree, yet disappointment washes through me. He sees it on my face and curls a hand under my chin to force me to look him in the eyes once again. For a moment, silence reigns and we are locked in a world of our own. It doesn't last, as Gawain quietly says, "I will do this last thing. But not for them." After searching his eyes once more, I nod, murmuring, "I understand." It is no lie, as I think about things from his point of view; from their point of view. There is no life when Rome has a bounty on your head. Desertion is worse than murder in some men's eyes, and nothing would be spared to recapture them.

"Are you alright?" he asks me, breaking into my heavy thoughts easily. I shrug slightly, moving out of his arms fully now as I motion for him to enter my room. I flop down onto my bed while Gawain moves about the room, building a fire. I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands as I lowly say, "I will be." Guilt is written all over Gawain's features as he stands, the flames of the fire lighting his face in an almost eerie way. He opens his mouth to say something, more than likely an apology, but I hold up a hand, effectively cutting him off.

"Don't Gawain. I understand why he said what he did, I really do." I pause for a moment before admitting, "I'm not saying that it didn't hurt… it did… but I see why he feels that way. I would feel the same, if it were me." Gawain shakes his head as he sits on the corner of my bed, his voice slightly angered as he insists, "He had no right to talk to you that way. Even if that was the way he felt, he shouldn't have said so." I give a wry smile and joke, "Well, Galahad isn't exactly known for his restraint." Gawain chuckles at this; seemingly relieved that I haven't taken offence to what his friend, and in many ways brother, **had** said.

"He is sorry, though." He presses after a moment and I nod in acceptance. Gawain pauses for a second before blurting out, "I didn't know you felt like that, Kate. Had I known I…." I look up at him and smile reassuringly, touched by his concern. Impulsively, I reach out and place my hand over his as I tell him, "Your being here for me now means more than anything you could have done then. Thank you." He smiles back at me, though I still see some traces of guilt on his face, and takes my hand into his. I watch as he brings it to his mouth and kisses it gently before sweetly saying, "I wanted to be sure that you were okay."

"I am." I tell him, my voice strong and clear. Hearing the renewed spirit in my voice he relaxes, and I am pleased to see some of the tension ease away. Some of my own heartache is washed away, and I marvel at Gawain's unfailing ability to make me feel better, not for the first time.

"You should go." I tell him quietly, and he looks at me. I am surprised to see hurt flash briefly in his eyes, and I hasten to add, "You need rest for your… for tomorrow. I daresay you won't be getting a good rest for some time." He sees the wisdom in my words and stands. I blush rosily when he leans over me and presses his lips to my forehead in a tender gesture that brings tears to my eyes and a lump to my throat. Willing away the tears, I stammer, "G-goodnight." There is an unspoken agreement between the two of us that we won't say 'goodbye'. I watch him walk out the door and know without a shadow of a doubt that no matter what happens, I will always and forever cherish this memory.

My body heavy with exhaustion, I manage to fall asleep despite the continuously warring emotions within me. Just before I lose myself to dreams, a thought occurs to me. Why did Gawain come, but Lancelot did not? I feel a stab of hurt in my heart for only a brief second before I push it away, feeding myself excuses on Lancelot's behalf. I scold myself for being selfish as well, though a tiny voice inside of my heart rebelliously declares that I have the right to be angry with him.

I wake with the sun in my eyes. At first, I am confused and bewildered, knowing that something important is to happen today, but the actual name of the event escaping me. I sit up slowly and my eyes trace my room slowly, lingering on the fireplace for a moment before moving on. They fly back after only a second, the memory of Gawain building a fire for me last night returning, and with it all my memory. Growling out a low curse I vault myself out of bed and, after hastily fixing myself up, I hurry outside. _I'll never forgive myself if I've missed them_, I think to myself, but even as I do I know that could never happen. Vanora would never let me sleep through something as important as this.

The air is fresh and crisp, as it usually is with the beginning of a new day, and I find my spirits lifted somewhat by it. I know where to go almost immediately, and as I step into the stables, I am instantly bombarded with the intense stares of several of the knights. Missing from the group is Arthur, probably gone to attend to some last minute business. I can feel the overwhelming injustice and anger coming off of the men in waves, and I pause at the door, unsure if I am welcome.

There is an uncomfortable silence, and I am painfully reminded of the exchange I had with Galahad. He is now atop his horse, which seems skittish and fully aware of the tense atmosphere. I am just about to leave when Galahad steers his horse towards me. He refuses to look me in the eyes, but he does mumble, "Good morning Kate." I know that this is his way of apologizing to me, and though it seems unsatisfactory, I am more than willing to accept it. Galahad is a brother to me, and I am aware of his temperamental nature. He is quick to anger and slow to apology, and the mere fact that he is trying to apologize so soon after our falling out is somewhat of a phenomenon. His eyes flicker towards me briefly and I know he is waiting for a response.

"Hello Galahad." I say to him, my voice soft. He looks at me again, trying to judge my mood and I smile at him as soon as our eyes connect. He pauses at it, and then returns it. In this brief encounter, we have settled all. It has never taken many words to satisfy anger between us, something which has baffled many outsiders. But the knights understand it well, knowing my nature as well as Galahad's. He spurs his horse back into a light trot and I walk away, heading towards the benches where some of the others have gathered. Bors greets me with a slight nod of his head, which I return in kind. Tristan looks up from his inspection of his sword to give me a similar greeting as I sit next to Gawain.

"Feeling better?" he asks me discreetly, nudging me with his leg. I nod and murmur, "Thank you Gawain, for last night, I-" A snort from behind us alerts me to the fact that I am speaking slightly louder than I had wanted to and I flush, making Gawain laugh aloud. I smack him lightly on the arm and hiss, "You know what I meant!" He nods, his blue eyes twinkling at me merrily. I open my mouth to continue when a voice calls out, "Kate!"

"Lancelot!" I call back, happy that he is here so I can say goodbye to him properly. He looks as calm and cocky as ever, his hug boisterous as I approach him. He sets me down on my feet and gives me a silent once-over. I sigh softly and snap at him, "I'm fine." He raises an eyebrow at me but doesn't press the issue, instead opting to join the others on the benches. As he absently begins to check his weapons, looking up at me briefly to tease, "So what's this I hear about you and Gawain?" I blush again out of reflex even though I can tell he doesn't really believe it and make a face at him that sets him laughing.

"Oh I hate you all." I say, crossing my arms over my chest and giving them all a very dark look. It does little but make them all smirk at me, knowing that what I say could never be true. Throwing up my hands in mock disgust I sit back down with a huff just as Arthur comes striding into the room. Usually when this happens, he is greeted with friendly words and gestures. Usually there is a smile on his face. Today, he is greeted with cold looks and tension. It is as if any joviality that had occurred just now has been sucked out of the room, and I shiver at the abrupt shift. I don't miss the stare-down that he and Galahad share as Arthur approaches us. I stand to greet him, and he spares me a tense smile as I do. I hug him briefly, moving my mouth to his ear to whisper, "Give them time."

He nods, and we break apart, just as the Bishop and his weasel enter the stables, accompanied by several Roman guards. Barely suppressing a sneer at the sight of them, I sit down, trying my best not to look at either of them. I cannot, however stop my grin when I hear that the Bishop has decided to send Horton with the knights. He claims it is as a representative of the church, but I know better. Horton is going as his spy. I look up to Gawain and we exchange a knowing grin. I doubt the man will last a day. Sadistically, I silently hope that they will make it as hard as possible for him.

"Godspeed as you fulfill your duty to Rome." The Bishop tells Arthur, and I look up to see the forced smile on his thin lips. I glance at Arthur as he steely returns, "My duty is also towards my men." In his words is an underlying threat that I am sure nobody else has missed. The Bishop, intimidated, yet not wiling to admit it, responds, "Then get them home." The vicious part of me simply wants to seize a nearby weapon and plunge it into the man's chest, but the rational part of me forces me to remain calm.

He then leaves the room, and for what seems like the thousandth time, I am faced with another farewell. I can only hope it isn't the last. I surprise myself with my own strength as I bid each one of the knights goodbye, lingering with each one. When I hug Lancelot, he squeezes me extra tight and murmurs in my ear, "I'll be back soon." Holding him back just as tight, I waveringly reply, "You had better." I feel his lips press to my cheek, dangerously close to my mouth and I feel my cheeks redden for the third time today. The next thing I know he is gone and in his place is Gawain. Strangely, Gawain is far less emotional in his goodbye. Instead of hugging me tight and going through our usual motions, he simply stares at me and stammers out, "I-I'll see you soon." He takes a step forward as if to embrace me but stops when I move to do the same.

Finally, he seems to abandon whatever had been holding him back and kisses my cheek, much in the same way Lancelot had. I stare at him with a puzzled frown as he sprints away from me and mounts his horse. I spot him shaking his head at himself slightly, his lips moving just slightly to show that he is muttering something to himself. I cock my head to one side, worried about the knight. I shout out a final good luck call as they spur their horses out of the stables and away from me. My heart contracts at the sight and I rub at the corners of my eyes furiously to stop the tears. Above the sound of pounding hooves I tell myself over and over that they will be fine and return to me happy and well.

I shut my eyes briefly when I can no longer hear them, and then force myself up and out of the stables. I head towards Vanora's first, knowing that she cannot be in the best state right now and will probably need my help. As soon as I enter her home, I know that my assumptions are true. She looks entirely hassled and near-tears when she faces me, relief following soon after. I find my arms full of her baby a split second later and her youngest daughter latches onto my leg soon after. I find myself standing there in the middle of chaos as Vanora chases down two of the older boys, yelling something unintelligible after them. For once, I find myself thankful that I have no children as they finally just run out the door, taking several of their brothers and sisters with them.

As soon as they have left she flops down, and I can see the strain on her very clearly. I stay silent as she gives me a tired look and says, "I hate that man." I nod, though both of us know she doesn't really mean it. She brings a hand to her pale cheek and continues, "They're gone then?" I nod, shifting the baby in my arms slightly, surprised to see that he is fast asleep despite all the commotion. She notices the movement and holds out her arms, smiling wanly as I hand her the boy. I motion towards the girl and raise an eyebrow and she nods at me, giving me a grateful look. I look down to the little girl and say, "Would you like to join me today?" She gives a little squeal of excitement and releases me, dashing off to grab something. I can't help but grin when she shows me her very own healing bag, not entirely unlike mine, filled with a haphazard collection of things.

"He got it for me." She says proudly, and I look up at Vanora for confirmation of my suspicions. When she nods, I find my respect for Bors increasing. I straighten up and feel my smile increase when the little girl grabs hold of my hand instantly. I can only hope that today's healing expedition will be far less eventful than the last.

Thankfully, the day is fairly uneventful. I spend more time showing the little girl the right medicines to use and how to use them properly than I do actually helping anybody. Because she is with me, I receive far more treats than I normally do, and for once I don't have to eat the food I brought with me. I return the little girl to her mother before dark when no other jobs arise and, though she seems reluctant to return, she thanks me for the day.

As the sun begins to set, I find my thoughts returning to the knights yet again. I had found myself preoccupied by them throughout the day, and more than once the little girl was the one to return me to the task at hand. Sadness creeps into my heart and I find myself wandering towards the round table that has held so many memories, some of them happy, others sad. The room seems so empty and quiet as I enter it, that for one frightening moment, I imagine that it might remain like this forever. I wrap my arms around me and will the thought away, a shiver traveling up my spine.

I wonder where they are now and pray to the gods that they are safe. I take a moment to remember those who have been lost, this room reminding me of them more than any shrine or burial mound could. Just as I am in the midst of my memories, a voice cuts through my private thoughts, startling a cry out of me. I am no less ill at ease when I see the Bishop standing in the doorway, a strange look on his face. He is still clad in his decadent robes, his corpulent form unconcealed by them. He strides into the room, full of confidence as he unapologetically says, "Did I startle you… Kate, was it?" I nod and dully say, "I was just leaving." I head towards the door, but pause when he reaches out, wrapping thick fingers around my wrist.

"You know, those knights aren't at all what I expected." He says by way of conversation, and I find myself fidgeting as I nervously respond, "Y-yes?" He nods slowly and then lowly says, "I wasn't expecting you either." I suppress the urge to sigh and simply nod, not daring to look back to see the expression on his face. My skin crawls where he is touching me and I wish he would let me go. Just as the thought enters my mind, he does so, but something commands me to stay where I am. He comes up behind me, and for a moment, he is so close that I can feel his breath on the back of my neck, hot and rather foul. He places his hand on my shoulder and says, "I have never seen a woman such as you."

"N-necessity breeds change." I say, trying my best not to show him just how rattled I am by his presence. I feverishly wish that the knights were here as he leans in even closer. His voice is a low, silky purr as he continues, "I have to admit, you intrigue me." My entire body then goes completely still as I feel his fingers on my breast. Fear and absolute panic immobilize me as his hand cups my breast fully, his thumb and forefinger brushing my nipple absently. This finally provokes a movement from me and I wrench myself away from him, bringing my arms up to cover myself as I stare at him in horror. To my disgust he brings his hand to his nose and inhales deeply, smiling at me guilelessly as he does so. With a silent promise, he strides out of the room, leaving me trembling and with bile rising up into my throat.

**Next chapter**

**Kate fears for her safety and suffers a devastating attack.**


	7. Slip

**_Disclaimer: God bless Mommy and Daddy, and the cat next door. And God bless the guy who owns King Arthur. May he give them to me. Amen._**

**_Man, this has to stop. I plead innocence, it really wasn't my fault. It was the laptop again. Freaking piece of junk. You will all be happy to hear that I bought myself a new one. So no more excuses. Hopefully, this one will be better than the last. Also, who isn't totally looking forward to Sin City? Oh man, it looks so good._**

**_Anyway, I want to thank anyone who continues to read this in advance. I know it's been irritating. And I dedicate this to my betas. You guys are really too good to me! _**

**_

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_****_Slip_**

I shift nervously in place, glancing over my shoulder repeatedly as I stand in front of Vanora's home. The sounds of rowdy children only barely penetrate the fog of fear that I have been surrounded in, and I have to remind myself of my purpose for being here several times. I stare warily at every man that passes, the memory of the Bishop's sweaty hands returning each time. The rational part of me knows that only the Bishop is to blame for my state now, and that it isn't fair in the least to be afraid of all men who come near me. Yet I find it impossible to help my actions, and soon my heart is racing once more.

I fled to my room after the scene by the round table; nearing hysteria by the time I had myself locked in. I paced back and forth for quite some time, trying to make sense of what had happened. I had heard of this sort of thing before, on a much larger scale, from the women in the village. I had heard horror stories of men forcing themselves upon women and I kept recalling one story in particular, where the actions of the man prior to the actual rape were nearly identical to what the Bishop had done to me. The thought that it might have progressed further sends cold shivers down my body, and my first instinct had been to find help.

But there was none to be had. Protection is scarce now with the knights gone, and I haven't anyone to stand up for me until they return. I held off on any action until now, the only person I could think to talk to being Vanora. Sleep was not an option last night and so I waited until sunrise before summoning up the courage to leave my room.

I take a deep, shaky breath before inching towards the door. I feel like a little mouse, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. I raise my hand to knock at the door when it suddenly just bursts open and a great number of the children rush outside all at once, nearly knocking me down. Vanora quickly follows them, shouting at them to be more careful before she turns to me with an apologetic smile. It fades quickly and I flush, knowing that my emotions must have been easily read. She motions for me to wait and then calls to the rest of the children inside, telling them to go out and play for awhile. The remaining children do as they are told, the little girl among them, and I feel my heart lift slightly as she pauses to smile at me brightly before running after her siblings.

"Kate, what is it? You look pale." Vanora says, and I can tell she is trying to be kind. I am not unaware of the fact that I must look like death right now. I clear my throat, glancing around for the hundredth time before murmuring, "Inside." She nods, and we head into the home, the only sound being the light cooing of her youngest son. She look at me expectantly as soon as we are inside and I find myself blurting out the entire tale in a low whisper, my words becoming more and more frantic as I relive the incident. Her eyes widen as I tell her what happened and soon anger seizes her features.

"The pig!" she mutters as soon as I have finished, bouncing the baby on her hip a little too roughly. She shakes her head and says, "Have you told anyone else?" I shake my head, cynically saying, "Who would I tell? More importantly, who would I tell that could actually help me, Vanora? You and I both know that there isn't much I can do right now." As soon as I speak the words, my spirits dip once more. Women in our position have little to protect ourselves. Considering the Bishop's status and the power that comes with it, I am sure he could have nearly anything he wanted.

"What am I going to do Vanora?" I demand at a hiss, "What if he tries it again or…?" I let the sentence hang, not wanting to voice my worst fears. Vanora sighs, looking nearly as distressed as I do, and murmurs, "I… I don't know Kate." We fall silent for a moment before she suddenly reaches out and puts a hand on my arm saying, "You'll stay here with me until the knights return. Then things will return to normal and you'll be safe." I give a little snort and before I can stop myself snap, "Do you really think that's going to happen? You really expect things to just be wonderful again?"

"I have to Kate." She informs me steadily, making any retort I might have said vanish before they can be utilized. I bring my hands to my temples and, a weary tone coming into my voice, whisper, "I'm just… I'm just so tired of _fighting _all the bloody time. I'm tired of this." I scrub my eyes with the heels of my hands and sigh heavily. Weariness creeps over my body and I suddenly feel the effects of my restless night. I nod once, seeing no other alternative to her plan, and try to look on the bright side, enjoying the idea of helping Vanora with the children. I suspect that I might be more help around here in just a few days than Bors has been in the years that they have been together.

"I had better go." I say, suspecting that I might have some work to do. She gives me a look that silently wonders if I will be alright healing on my own today. I give her a look of forced confidence in return and say, "I'll be fine for now, Vanora. I do not believe he would try anything more, not this soon." The ridiculousness of my own statement is not lost on me, and I give a little lame cough to hide my discomfort. She doesn't say a word, something for which I am truly grateful, and I take my leave. Stepping outside once more, I take a deep, cleansing breath of fresh air in an attempt to rejuvenate myself before I head back towards my home.

I gather my things, more than I am used to having with me during the day, for I take things that I will need overnight as well. My bag is much heavier as a result and each time I visit a home to heal, it takes me a little longer to find what I need. My temper is short, and I find that I am not as friendly as I usually am with the people who request my help. I feel badly afterwards, berating myself for taking out my frustrations on innocent people.

There is a weight on my shoulders that I just can't seem to shake throughout the day, and the burden seems to only get larger. I pause in my work often, keeping a wary eye out for any suspicious people. I keep my distance from any males and touch my male patients only as much as I have to. I know I must not seem very friendly today, but I cannot help it. I think of the knights almost as much as I think of the Bishop, and I wonder if they are safe. I send wishes up to the gods, begging for their safe return.

By the time mid-day has come, I feel as though I have gained years onto my life. There is a permanent frown on my face and I simply wish the entire world would just leave me be. It seems as though every person in the village has come down with something, and the ill timing of it just makes me want to weep. I decide to forgo my meal and instead plan to go to Vanora's peaceful spot in the woods. More than anything, I need an escape from everything. I am just about to go when I feel a hand on my arm. At first, I think that it is someone else that might need my help, maybe Otri's wife. I turn with a sigh, but swallow the impatient words that were on my tongue as soon as I see the face before me. It is not the face of the bear-like woman, but the no-nonsense face of a Roman guard.

I have a bad feeling almost immediately, the look on his face making a cold feeling grow in the pit of my stomach. My instincts tell me that I should just leave now, but out of politeness I instead stay. Giving the man a shaky smile, I quietly question, "Yes? Can I help you?" His expression changes almost imperceptivity, and I could honestly swear that his gaze is now pitying as he says, "His Eminence wishes to see you in his quarters immediately."

"… What?" I question stupidly, shocked by the statement. My heart feels as though it could beat straight from my chest as the guard's words echo through my mind over and over. The Bishop wishes to see me now, alone? I curse myself for having underestimated the powerful man. He knew that this would be my most vulnerable time. He probably anticipated that I would go to someone for help, and that I would be with someone after dark. I glance around, looking for any way to escape, but as soon as my eyes return to the man in front of me, he reaches out and clamps a large hand on my wrist. He seems apologetic as he takes me to the doors and I find that I can't truly blame him for his actions. He is bound to duty and must obey what the Bishop has ordered.

By the time I am pushed towards the rooms, which are normally occupied by Arthur, I feel physically ill. I want to protest when the guard leaves me, but I know that it is useless. I begin to inch my way away from the door but it is almost as if the Bishop has sensed me. The door opens and his smirking face is revealed. I force myself to stay put and ask, "You wanted to see me?" I keep my voice as cold as I can, hoping to repel him. To my dismay, he seems to ignore it and he motions for me to enter the room. As I walk past him, he puts his hand on the small of my back. I tense reflexively, and I hear him chuckle lightly at my response. Disgust wells up in my heart and I wonder how many times he has been in this same situation with a woman.

Having never stepped foot in Arthur's quarters before, I am already intensely uncomfortable. It seems improper to be here without his consent, never mind the fact that it seems to be highly improper. I am not surprised to note the writing implements and scrolls scattered across a tabletop, nor are I surprised to see the names of several prominent leaders on these scrolls. There are boxes and other such items and I fleetingly wonder which contains the discharge papers we have been literally dying to receive.

"Sit, Kate," The Bishop says, breaking through my thoughts. I blink several times before realizing what he is talking about. He gestures towards a chair in front of a mirror, and I do as I am told, feeling like some sort of creature on display as he stares at me. I sit down and he stands behind me, his eyes fixed on my body. Wishing that he would look me in the eyes, I find myself stammering, "Y-your Eminence, I-" He cuts me off by lifting a hand imperiously. His eyes seem to glitter as he regards me, as if trying to figure out what I am thinking.

"Are you aware of what I am?" he asks me, that smug, sly tone in his heavily accented voice as he speaks. I resist the urge to glare at him as I answer, "Yes Your Eminence, I am aware." He continues on as if I hadn't spoken at all, making me feel like the youngest of children as he says, "I am a Bishop, my dear, a very high rank and office. Power... riches..." I struggle to remain seated as his damp hand goes to my neck. It feels as though a thousand insects are crawling over my skin as he begins to trail his fingers up and down my neck, lingering at my pulse repeatedly.

I feel wrong; I feel misplaced. Everything inside of me is crying out against this, yet I remain as still as possible. When the caress stops, I open my eyes, wary and wanting to see what he has planned next. Our gazes connect almost immediately in the mirror, and now I feel as though he has seized control of my very body. My limbs are rigid and stiff as I stare at him, his self-assured gaze doing very little to soothe my nerves. He smiles at me and I quickly avert my gaze, my heart racing. I lick my dry lips almost franticly before blurting out, "I-I should... I must l-leave, I-"

"You are very lovely, Kate." he says suddenly, interrupting my babbling. I let out a shaky breath, my thoughts whirling in my mind like a storm. His words are hollow and meaningless to me, and I whole-heartedly wish he would stop speaking altogether and let me leave. I gaze longingly at the door through the reflection in the mirror and a coaxing note creeps into his voice as he says, "Come now Kate, don't be cold. Do you not realize the advantages?" Startled by his direct reference to his actions towards me, my eyes widen and I find myself captured by his gaze once more. My eyes widen even more when he leans towards me until his face is nearly touching mine.

My breathing quickens at the closeness of him and I feel my stomach clench unpleasantly. He grins at the expression on my face before suddenly moving away from me. At first, I breathe a slight sigh of relief, thinking that he will leave me long enough for me to escape. My relief vanishes after only a moment when he returns to my side, carrying something in one hand. I turn away from the mirror to get a better look at him and can't help the noise of awe that slips from my throat.

Clutched in those repulsive hands of his is the most stunning item I have ever seen, a necklace so grand that I cannot help but be overwhelmed by it. I have never seen anything like it, my entire life revolving around the muddy streets of the little village and the musty greens of my healing herbs. But this piece of jewellery sparkles and shimmers, so beautiful that I can't help but covet it the second I lay my eyes on it. The gems embedded in the gold seem to reach toward me with their rich blue colour and I am sorely tempted to reach back. I make no protestations when he puts the item around my neck, nor do I say a word when his hand strays dangerously close to my breast once more under the guise of adjusting the necklace.

"There now… you see how beautiful you can be, yes?" he murmurs, glancing at me in the mirror only for a moment before his eyes slide back to my chest. With a shaking hand I reach up, my fingers closing around the heavy jewel around my neck. For a second, I seem to step outside of myself and simply imagine what it would be like to be mistress to this man. I imagine the luxury in which I would live, away from this cursed island and the pain that seems to stalk me at every turn here. As much as Germanus would be using me, I would be using him in the same way. Just to get away from here. For a second, I think about how much easier things would be if I just gave into him.

But the instant I think this, images of the people I love float through my mind. I finally begin to understand the gravity of my earlier thoughts when I think of how the knights and Vanora would react. Actual pain stabs my in the chest when I realize that I would be betraying them all by doing this. I would be turning my back on much more than the pain of the last fifteen years.

I finally snap out of my daze, pulling away from the Bishop's grasp completely. I try to pull the necklace off frantically and shake my head, a slightly panicked edge creeping into my voice as I say, "No…no. I can't." His gaze darkens as he watches me, becoming angry so quickly that I have a hard time reconciling this man to the one who was trying to woo me not moments earlier. I try to get up, but before I can move any further away from him he suddenly seizes me by the hair and forces me to look at him. I let out a cry when he gives a particularly savage tug and kisses me hard enough to make my teeth cut into my bottom lip. Tears prick my eyes and I struggle against him, little screams getting caught in the back of my throat.

I feel his free hand move to my thigh and begin to travel upwards and finally, out of desperation, I manage to kick him in the leg hard enough to make him let me go. Blinded by panic, I make a mad dash for the door only to find my hands shaking too hard to open it. Moments later, I am on the floor, peering up at him through wide eyes. He sneers down at me, looking slightly disappointed, and alarm washes through me as I wonder if he will try to rape me now. Nevertheless I shake my head vehemently when he asks, "You will not yield?"

I expect his anger to boil over; I expect him to hurt me. I brace myself for whatever he has planned next for me, trying to make myself feel a strength that I do not have. After a moment, however, I realize that he has no such plans. He gives me a queer sort of look, and gestures to the door. I am wary at first, wondering what sort of trickery this might be, but it soon becomes clear that he is sincere. Deciding not to question his motives, I practically leap to my feet and go to the door, this time managing to open it. I pause only for a moment to seize my bag before I slip outside and hurry away from Arthur's quarters. I feel, at least for the moment, nothing but relief. By the time I am outside once more, confusion has worked its way back into my mind.

I spend the rest of the day in a frightened, confused daze. I make mistake after mistake and it soon becomes clear that I am of no use to anyone today. My heart feels as though it is in my throat and every time I hear a male voice I tense. I soon find my head aching, and I long for the sun to set and night to come. When it finally happens, I stagger to Vanora's home, exhausted. She smiles at me when I enter, and I am soon nearly swept off my feet for the second time in one day by her children. I smile warmly at the reception, pleased by it, and fall into the large family's pattern rather quickly. I watch over the children when Vanora is unable, and I imagine what it would be like to have this sort of routine every night. The exhaustion seems to melt away, or at least be put aside for the time being.

By the time we all lay down for bed, I have nearly forgotten the earlier events. To say that I had completely forgotten would be a lie, one could never forget an incident like that no matter what the circumstances, but the activity and warmth of the family around me offered a respite for at least a little while. I lie next to Vanora in the dark, listening to the heavy breathing of the people around me and try to follow their example, shutting my eyes and waiting for sleep to come. When it does not come, I simply stare out into the darkness, trying my best not to think. After a moment, I turn over, and come face to face with a wide-awake Vanora. Keeping my voice as low as I can, I recount the latest events. I tell her everything, including my moment of shame. As I tell her the story, I feel weak and utterly helpless, two emotions that I absolutely abhor. What would my father think of me now?

When I have finished, silence falls between us. Vanora is, for once, at a complete loss for words. She reaches out and takes my hand in a comforting gesture and I smile weakly, trying to show that I am strong. The only thing she can offer is a soft, "Sleep Kate. Tomorrow will be better, you will see." I nod and shut my eyes, but sleep does not come for quite some time.

My sleep is light and restless, filled with nightmares of the disapproving eyes of my dear father and mother. All through the nightmares I endured their wails of shame, their accusing words and sharp reprimands. It never occurs to me to defend myself, or my actions. The strange thing is, throughout the terrible dreams something nags at me in the back of my mind, buzzing around my thoughts like an annoying insect. I am forgetting something, I know it, and the feeling stays with me as I wake. Vanora is already awake and she smiles at me as I sit up. She does not trouble herself with asking if I have had a good night's sleep as the look on my face must answer that question already. I stretch widely and yawn, scratching my scalp vigorously. All the while I am wracking my brain for anything that could make this feeling go away.

I stand, working the kinks from my neck and make my way through the maze of children over to Vanora. As I reach her, I notice that the sky is grey, suggesting rain to come. I make a face and turn back to Vanora, fully ready to complain. I stop, however, when I see the look of puzzlement on her face. She gestures at me and murmurs, "Kate, what is that?" I look down at myself and gasp before I can help myself, blood draining from my face. There, still around my neck yet almost completely hidden by my dress is the Bishop's necklace. The gold winks at me as though mocking me as I pull it out from underneath the material of my garment, looking up at Vanora with what must be sheer panic.

"Oh Kate." She breathes, and the seriousness of the situation fully weighs upon my shoulders. I have, in essence, stolen from the Bishop. She gestures at me wildly, hissing, "Go, go! Take it back now, before it's too late!" I nod vigorously, turning on my heel to head to the door when, in an act which must have been ordained by the most vicious of the gods, a heavy pounding on the door sounds through the small home. I freeze in place almost immediately as the children around me are startled awake, and I begin to quiver as a loud, booming voice shouts out, "Kate of Sarmatia, present yourself!" Breathing so fast that I might as well be panting, I turn to face Vanora. Neither of us knows what to do, and it isn't long before pandemonium washes over us all. The children, frightened and confused by the abrupt awakening, begin to ask questions. The older boys seem to think it is an attack of sorts and immediately begin to shout back at the men outside, daring them to enter the dwelling and face their wrath. They do not understand that this is no game.

"Kate, present yourself at once!" the voice says, and I know that if I do not comply, I will be forcibly dragged outside. Squaring my shoulders in an attempt to make myself look confident, I walk towards the door, sending what I hope is a reassuring smile to the little girl as I pass her. She looks utterly frightened and she clings to another of her sisters, shivering. I lick my lips as I open the doors, forcing a smile as several Roman officers are revealed. They are all very serious, and my smile quickly fades as the one standing closest to me announces, "Kate of Sarmatia, you are hereby accused of theft, and are requested to come with us peacefully." I lick my lips again, and speak in a voice that is far milder than I feel.

"I am innocent of the crime you accuse me of. It was a misunderstanding. I humbly ask that you let me speak with the Bishop Germanus. I am sure that I can sufficiently explain myself." One of the guards snorts out a laugh and I realize just how ridiculous my words must sound. I have the very item in question around my neck, damning me silently. I curse my greed as I bow my head in acceptance, stepping forward and allowing them to grab me by the wrists. They are gentle for the moment, as most remember how much of an asset I have been to this village. I must not rely on this for long, however, knowing that it will only take me so far. My heart aches when I hear the little girl cry out in protest, begging the men not to take me away. I also hear Vanora shout out against it, saying that it is all ridiculous. In the pit of my stomach, I wish they would not follow me. I know that whatever happens next, it will not be good.

I am marched through much of the village and the commotion of the children following us peaks the curiosity of the villagers. They come outside, murmuring and pointing, many following us. By the time we have reached the courtyard below the barracks, at least half the village has gathered together. They are bewildered and curious, and I am not surprised at their actions. I hear Vanora shouting to my left and I turn my head to see her push her way through the crowds. One of the guards moves towards her, holding her back with a dark look and a threatening sword. I am mortified by the events and as they remove the necklace, I wait with bated breath for the Bishop to reveal himself.

When he does, I am unable to mask the venom I feel for him. I have no doubt that he had set the entire thing up, and I hate myself for falling into the trap so easily. I want to spit in his face as he approaches me, and forcibly remove that insufferable smirk from his face. He motions to the crowd to quiet down before announcing, "This woman is guilty of theft; the evidence speaking much louder than any protestations she could make. The item in question was found around her very neck, and therefore has sealed her fate." I glance back towards the only friendly faces in the crowd and try to hold onto that as the Bishop continues to play it up for the crowds, acting as if this were one of his Roman circuses.

He asks me if I have anything to say for myself, sounding bemused. I want to cry out against him, to call him names and reveal him for the snake that he is. Instead, I can only hoarsely say, "It was an accident. I forgot I had it." The excuse is not only lame, but it reveals to all without a doubt that I had been in close, intimate contact with the Bishop. This will forever tarnish my reputation, I have no doubt. I refuse to lower my head again in the face of the Bishop, and I defiantly stare him down. The Sarmatian blood in my veins demands bravery and honour and I fully intend to do right by it. To my surprise, the Bishop moves close to me, close enough that I can smell his sour breath full on my face. I can barely control my rage as he murmurs, "You should have given yourself to me, sweet Kate. I am always the victor."

He pulls away then and loudly announces, "In accordance with Roman law, this woman is hereby sentenced to a public flogging."

Following his words, there is a moment of complete silence. For a moment, I question if this is actually happening, my fate seeming to be so unreal that it is absurd. I do not even need to look around to know that even the villagers are flabbergasted, as the usual punishment for theft is a few days in our makeshift jail, plus reparations. Then, like a tidal wave of noise and action, everything seems to rush forward. The crowds begin to make a fuss, silenced only by the furious threats of the Bishop. I am shoved forward and my arms are tied tightly around a post. I am so stunned that I cannot even think to try and fight. I feel them open the back of my dress and expose my back, and I feel shame and fear descend upon me. I pull against the ropes binding my hands. It is far too late for that now, and I struggle to keep from looking behind me. I hear Vanora shouting dimly, but the sound of heavy footsteps drowns it out easily.

I shut my eyes and let out a shaky breath just before I hear the crack of the whip sounding behind me. Seconds later, pain blossoms down my back and I gasp. I bite my lip hard to keep from screaming as the whip descends upon me again and again. Soon, I feel wetness on my back, trickling down my spine. The pain is terrible and I know I will not be able to take much more. The Bishop is pacing around me, watching the flogging as if it were a piece of artwork he was overseeing. He shouts orders to the guards to pour water on my back, and for a moment, I wonder if he is attempting to be merciful. The water does feel good when it is poured over me, and I slump, thinking my punishment has ended.

When the whip descends again, a ragged scream is finally torn from my lips. The water has done nothing but make it sting so much more, and I feel my will crumble. I fall forward limply, my back arching in agony. I beg the gods to spare me as I wait for more. Time seems to have stilled, and the crowds are almost totally silent once more. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a dark haze has gathered. I think of the knights and attempt to gather what is left of my courage too late.

The whip falls; I scream once more, and the fog overtakes me completely.

**Next Time**

**An eerie encounter.**** Will Kate survive her ordeal?**


	8. Empty

**Title Thousand Mile Wish**

**Author Manic P**

**Disclaimer King Arthur and all characters relating to it do not belong to me. Any characters or events that resemble the movie obviously belong to that. Any other characters (i.e./ Thulio, Otri, etc.) belong to me.**

**Author's Notes … I really don't know what to say. This is embarrassing now. I didn't mean to take this long, I swear. Life got in the way. I've been working on this for a long time, actually. But, I realized something a couple of days ago: the 25th was the first year anniversary of when I started this story! So I had to finish the chapter. I had hoped to put it out on Monday, but it didn't work out. I think my betas have given up on me too, so I think I'm going to need another one. I want to thank my betas for sticking with me thus far, and give them kudos on their great work. So, because of the beta situation, this chapter is thus far unchecked. I apologise for mistakes. I looked it over as best as I could. Again, sorry for the wait, and enjoy this utterly boring chapter. The next one will have knights, I promise. LOL **

**Oh, and I wanted to run this by everyone to see if I'm figuring things properly. I'm figuring that it was about four days that passed from when the knights left for Marius', to when they came back. So in this story, by the end of this chapter, I am on the day that they will return, but they haven't yet (I'm figuring that they actually return late afternoon/early evening; this chapter ends early in the morning of the same day). I'm confusing myself. Gah.**

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_Empty_  
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_The hill upon which I stand is the most notable feature in the landscape around me. No trees, no lakes, not even another hill can be seen. This strange, almost sea-like grass stretches out before me as far as my eyes can make out. The sky is dark with heavy clouds, pregnant with impending rain. The wind that tears savagely at my dress and hair carries with it the scent of salt, further telling of the storm that is soon to come. I wrap my arms around me, feeling the isolation deeply, and sit down in the tall grass to wait for whatever may come. The long, soft blades tickle at my legs and as time passes, I pluck a strand from the ground, sticking it into my mouth and chewing on the end. As the bitter taste of the grass floods my mouth, I am reminded of the afternoons I used to spend with my father, doing just this. _

_ The sound of a horse's heavy hooves upon the ground startles me out of my memories. I turn, frowning deeply as I had not sensed any other presences around me. The horse is without rider and yet it seems to have a particular destination in mind. I stand, watching it approach, and am surprised to see it coming straight for me. I let the grass fall from my lips and begin to shuffle around nervously in place as the horse comes closer, worried that he might not see me. My anxiousness abates when the horse slows upon climbing the hill, his stride now filled with purpose. He stops right in front of me, his head bowed and his eyes hidden from view. I see now that he is not completely black. A spot of pure white has graced his forehead, and when I reach out to touch it, he gives a low nicker. _

_ "Who are you, then?" I murmur, more to break the silence than anything else. He nickers again, lifting his head. I step back for a moment when I see his eyes, feeling as though I have seen them before. They are mysterious and dark, full of sorrow and joy all at once. I reach out once more and smooth my hand over the soft muzzle of the horse, stepping closer again. My eyes are still locked on his, and I begin to feel completely at ease with this creature. My heart contracts when I see the scars scattered across his strong face. Some are deeper than others, making me wonder just what this horse has seen in his lifetime. _

_He bows his head gracefully, and delights me by lowering his front half just enough for me to be able to climb up onto his back. Gathering the skirt of my dress in one hand, I climb on and let out a very girlish giggle, sounding far more carefree than I should. Like an arrow being shot from a bow, the great beast takes off, kicking up the earth beneath him. I grab onto his mane, but have no fear of falling off. Being on the back of this horse is like flying over a sea of grass. He would not let me fall. _

_"Are we to go home then?" I question, my words carried on the air along with my playful laughter. As if in answer, the horse shakes his head firmly. He continues to gallop, going so fast and yet, it appears as if we are standing still. I lift my arms and tilt back my head as I feel the rain fall finally. It feels cool and soothing against my skin, and I open my mouth to let some trickle down my throat. It tastes like Briton. _

_My comfort with the storm quickly deteriorates. The wind and rain increase dramatically and suddenly it feels like my back is being stung by a thousand bees. My heart races with a sudden, terrible fear. Something is wrong here; something is not right. The horse suddenly stops and I turn in place to see behind me. There is a fog slowly rolling its way behind us, thick and dank. I smell death on it, the scent of rot and decay. I let out a frightened whimper, a chill going up my spine. The pain increases on my back and I hiss, reaching back to touch it. I look down at my hands to see the thick blood that coats the tips before it is washed away. What happened…?_

_The horse moves sideways, anxious to continue to our unknown destination. The fog has almost overcome us both and it feels terrible. I spur the horse into our fast gait but all joy is gone now. My heartbeat thunders in my chest and ears and the pain becomes almost unbearable. I throw back my head and let loose a cry, announcing my sorrow and pain to the gods. The sound of rain has long since been replaced with the cries of the dead and dying; of men in their prime, of innocent children. The voices hurt almost as much as the pain on my back. _

_Soon, however, those voices melt and shift into one lone sound. It is the sobs of a child, and with every tear I hear her shed, my heart feels as though it is shattering. I feel a warm hand on my shoulder and gasp, jerking away from the touch. Another sob shakes me and I am wrapped in confusion. What is this evil all around me? These voices and this fog, are they some demons, here to take me to hell with them? The weeping girl shouts something, but the wind carries it away. The horse suddenly stops in its tracks, whinnying in fear. I am drenched in rain and blood, my body feels as though the cold hand of the death god has touched me. The girl cries out again, and I respond, "What say you? Please… I don't understand!" _

_Then, with a clarity that scares me, I hear the little girl's words as if she had been standing right next to me. Her voice is like a sharp sting on me when she says my name. My head spins, and I cannot protect myself when the horse suddenly rears, pawing at the sky with its hooves. I slide off, and just as I fall to the ground, I feel as though I am being tugged away from the hellish world I have found myself in. I plunge, crying out for mercy, into a dark world._

A ragged scream of pain erupts from my throat as I spring upwards in bed. As soon as I make the movement, however, I regret it. I cry out again at the agony that tears through my body and fall back against something hard. I try to squirm away from the pain, cursing shamelessly, but my arms are seized by two pairs of slight hands and pinned to my sides. My vision swims as my strength flees and I try to put the pieces together as voices float pass me.

"By the gods… is she possessed?"

"No… I believe she is well enough… considering…."

"Kate? Kate, can you understand me?"

I frown up into the blur above me and blink a few times, trying to make out who this being is above me. Eventually, my vision corrects itself and I see Vanora staring down at me, her face pale and her eyes almost manic with worry. I swallow thickly, and glance over to the side. I am further surprised to see Thulio standing there, her scarred face visible in the dim light of my room. I smell burning wood and hear the sounds of night. Time has passed since…. I frown deeper, and then hoarsely question, "What happened?"

The two women exchange a glance, trying to make out who should be the one to explain to me why I am lying here, so disoriented and in such pain. But they need not worry. Even as the words fall from my lips my memory slides back into place. I cringe with every revelation of a new memory and I feel myself begin to panic, my breathing increasing to the point of light-headedness. Vanora seems to want to join me, twisting the material of her dress in her pale hands as she watches me, distraught. Thulio is impassive, looking at me as if waiting to see what I will do next. I bring my hands to my face and try to sort through the overwhelming inclination to slip into hysteria.

I roll onto my side, by far the most comfortable position, and curl up into a ball. My upper half has been bared due to my violent awakening and I hide my nakedness from the other women. I feel sick to my stomach, as though I had swallowed a heavy rock. The sensation of wetness on my back makes me shudder. The scent of blood on the air makes me want to retch, but I don't. The women finally take action, Thulio reaching out to touch my cheek with her bony fingers. She wipes at the sweat on my face and smiles a sad smile at me. Our eyes connect and I shudder, feeling the weight of events pressing down on my shoulders.

But as she gazes at me with those tragic eyes of hers, I feel myself become centered. Thulio has always had the most remarkable eyes, and the calm I see in them has always affected me to a degree. Unfortunately, lately the sadness in them has also come out in waves. Tonight, I am struck by both. Vanora, not understanding what is happening, presses, "We don't know what to do." She is frightened still, despite the fact that much time has passed, and cannot seem to still herself. She moves about the room constantly, touching everything that comes into her path. Thulio's voice seems foreign and strange when she speaks, saying, "Yes. Tell us what needs to be done." I swallow thickly and then murmur, "You would help a criminal?"

"You are no criminal!" Vanora suddenly screams, making me flinch in surprise. Her pretty face is twisted into a look of pure anger, and her eyes darken to the point of being almost black. She trembles with her rage, but I suspect that it stems not out of true hatred. It is fear that is making her this way. She takes a step towards me and slowly hisses, "Tell us how to heal you." I let my eyes drift shut and try to recall the proper method of healing wounds such as this. I shudder, trying to imagine what I must look like now. Rolling onto my stomach, the blanket now moved to my hips, I softly order, "Describe it to me."

Unsurprisingly, it is Thulio who speaks, not Vanora. Thulio's voice is low and methodical as she says, "Your skin is pink, where it is not broken, closer to red. There are five strips that have been cut open. Two are across, from rib to rib. Three run downwards, the worst of which is from the nape of your neck to the small of your back, and they all bleed." I reach around and Thulio guides my hand along the worst of it. I wince at the sting, but force myself to examine my wounds.

"Get a cloth and some water. Soak up the blood; make sure there is nothing else in the wounds." I tell them, my voice sounding dead to my own ears. I close my eyes as I hear them move about, trying my best to ignore them. My thoughts turn to the knights and I feel shame; shame that I have dishonoured our great lineage by my actions. I curse my stupidity and I curse my womanhood. Not for the first time, I envy men and their freedom. I start when I feel hands on my back, my muscles tensing as I feel a wet cloth carefully trace the bloody wounds on my back. There is silence now between the three of us, and I am glad for it. I don't know what to say or do now, and I don't particularly want to try to find the words. I am exhausted, though it seems I have been sleeping for quite some time now.

I think of the Bishop and instantly my hands grip the edges of the blanket and I clench my fists so hard that my knuckles turn white. I have never felt such anger and rage towards another human being, if he could really be called that. And yet, at the same time, I can't imagine coming into another conflict with him. With a sickening feeling, I realize that what happened was only a taste of the Bishop's wrath. Now that I have seen what he is capable of, I have no doubt that things could only get worse.

I am roused from my black thoughts when Thulio asks what is to be done next. Blinking slowly, I realize that they have already finished their task. I wish I could see what they have done, to be sure that they haven't missed anything, but I just don't have the stomach for it. Swallowing thickly and closing my eyes once more, I whisper, "There is a salve on the table, in the small black container. You'll need to put that on me. One of you will have to hold me down." Silence greets my words, and I know I have stunned them into it. It is Vanora who tentatively asks, "W-why would we need to do that?" My voice is bordering on irritation when I respond, "Because the salve stings terribly. I may try to get away and injure myself further."

Thulio returns to my side, and I only dimly hear them murmuring to each other. I wish that they'd hurry up and get this over with as they discuss. I want to forget about this whole thing, to push it out of my mind and pretend it never happened, and I can't do that with the job only half done. I am half-relieved when they finally move into place, Thulio with the salve and Vanora holding me in place.

The second the cold salve touches my wounds I try to move. It burns, more so than I remember, and I have to sallow a choked cry. Tears burn my eyes but I don't, or perhaps can't, let them fall. I grit my teeth, only half listening to Vanora as she attempts to soothe me with calming words as I endure this further pain. Every time they apply more, I gasp slightly, the stinging only increasing.

When they finally finish, I tell them to wrap me up as tightly as they can, from my chest to my waist, with the strips of cloth that I always have on hand. I sit upright with their help, unable to help my blushing when my body is bared to them. I feel exceptionally strange when they finish, as though I've been cloaked in my own despair. I feel so black inside that it's a wonder I have the strength to endure all this. I lie back down, exhaustion claiming me once more, and simply ask the other women to leave.

They hesitate, and I can just picture them exchanging a look between themselves. I try not to become angry, but when Vanora presses, "Are you sure that's wise?" I simply can't hold my tongue. I turn my head to look at her, narrowing my eyes to slits and simply say, "Get out." My words are like cold stones and they are effective. With a curt nod, Vanora sweeps out of the room, slamming her feet against the ground hard as she hurries away. I have hurt her with my ungrateful actions but I care little right now. The only thing on my mind is sleep and solitude. I turn my hard look on Thulio, but she does not seem to be affected the same way Vanora was. Instead, she returns the look with that tragic stare of her own. In time, I feel guilty. With only a glance, Thulio is speaking volumes on my behaviour.

When she too leaves, I feel no relief in the solitude I had craved. The shadows in the room suddenly become unbelievably sinister and I try my best not to give these new monsters faces. The loneliness that grows and gnaws away at my belly surprises me, but I find that I long for the company of neither Thulio nor Vanora. What I want, or perhaps more accurately _who_ I want, is much further away. I can only hope that they are well and doing better than I am tonight.

I feel myself beginning to fade away again, my exhausted body no longer able to keep myself alert. I know I should worry for myself, that my safety hasn't been assured by any means and now that the others have left I am at even more of a disadvantage, but I find that I can't. It isn't bravado that makes me think 'come tomorrow, bring what you may'. It is the simple lack of strength in me.

Some time during the night I wake from my restless sleep, panting and sweating though my body is chilled to the bone. I struggle out of my bed and retrieve a blanket, wrapping it around me tightly. The next thing I become aware of is the bright light of morning. It seems almost like a personal snub from the gods when I see how lovely the day is to be. I hear the birds chirping merrily and the sounds of the sleepy village rousing and preparing for the day's work. I could almost believe that things were normal, were it not for the pain that radiates from my back and deep within my heart. I stare out at what little of the sky that I can see for a long time, the bitter anger inside of me building.

Events run through my mind on a loop, until I am no longer seeing the pretty blue sky but instead the crimson of my own blood staining the dirt. I am seeing the Bishop's black eyes and the sparkle of the necklace he dangled before me. I darkly curse myself for being so blind and so weak. I become obsessed with recalling the events and wondering what could have happened had I just done something differently. By the time noon comes around, I am trembling in the wake of emotion, curling up into a ball like a wounded animal, staring out at nothing.

I lift my head when my door opens, but lower it again when I see that it is just Thulio. Part of me is surprised that she is here, walking about in broad daylight for the first time since her accident. The other half of me is too caught up in despair to really grasp this and I find myself attempting to ignore her at first. Then the scent of food catches my attention and my stomach growls rebelliously. I lift my head again and, in a voice that I hardly can believe is my own, I croak, "Thulio?" She turns towards me, her lips twisted into a funny little smirk as she says, "I made you something. I thought you would be hungry by now." I let out a shuddering little breath, but find that I can't stay in the same state around Thulio. I feel guilty for even feeling so sorry for myself around her, considering what happened to her. I want to tell her this but one look at her scarred face makes me bite my tongue.

She helps me into an upright position and then offers me the thin soup she had made. My hand shakes hard as I attempt to eat and she is forced to help me hold the bowl. As I eat, she startles me by casually mentioning, "The villagers are asking after you." I want to snarl a reply as my bitterness rears its ugly head that they are only after gossip, but Thulio has timed her statement well. My mouth is full and I am unable to do anything but narrow my eyes at her over the rim of the bowl. She pushes on, ignoring my stare, saying, "They are worried about you, Kate. I believe they want their healer back." I am stunned by her words, and though I want desperately to believe what she is saying, I can't.

"I know you hurt," she continues quietly, "and you must be suffering greatly. But I must offer you some advice, and though I'm sure you don't want to hear it, I must insist." She pauses as I finish the meal and sets aside my bowl. For reasons that are beyond me, I remain silent and listen to what she has to say, more out of respect for her than any desire to hear her words. She sighs and then begins, "When I had my accident, I became angry. Thoughts questioning the events surrounding what happened plagued me long afterwards. Questions as to what I could have done to prevent it attacked my heart until I became bitter. I will not lie to you, I am still that way now. There is a voice inside of me that is always telling me that it was my fault, that there were thousands of things I should have done in order to protect myself. I doubt I will ever be able to combat that voice."

She looks at me then, the sadness on her face now morphing to a look that makes me wither beneath it, and tells me, "I see it happening in you now. I see the bitterness inside of you. I want… no, I need to tell you that you need to fight this. There were things that happened that you have to own, yes, but that doesn't place the blame at your feet. What happened was beyond what you, or anyone else but Bishop Germanus could help."

She throws up her hands in a helpless gesture and sighs, "Things happen, Kate. But it is up to us to determine whether or not we will become victims." She swallows thickly and looks away, her eyes now becoming distant, "I… I believe I am beyond hope. But you… you have a chance." I gasp softly when she says this, my father's voice suddenly entering my head, his last words to me ringing through my mind. '_Never let them break you.'_ I shake my head, wondering if the world has conspired against me to keep me from giving into despair. I give Thulio an even look and quietly say, "I am very tired." She studies me carefully, and then bobs her head as if giving me permission to rest.

But the moment she moves away from me, I instantly wish that she wouldn't go. I hear myself blurt out, "They tried to teach me to defend myself once." I hesitate, watching Thulio pause in mid-motion before turning to look at me again. I smile faintly as I continue, "Lancelot thought it was a good idea to try, anyway. He was the one who actually talked me into it, in front of the others, no less." My smile widens a bit and I quietly say, "They thought the idea of me wielding a sword was hilarious. They insisted on being allowed to watch. I've always wondered if Lancelot was just coaxing me into it for entertainment."

"What happened?" Thulio asks, sounding rather interested. I give a dry chuckle and tell her, "The second Lancelot gave me the sword; I knew I'd never be able to do it. It was far too heavy and I almost fell over under the weight." I shake my head a little and say, "He tried to show me how to use it, but I nearly pegged him in the back of the head. So… that was the end of that. I handed him the sword and walked out with what little dignity I had left. Told them I'd leave the protecting and fighting to them, I'd rather try to keep people alive. But I don't know how to-"

I look up, stopping abruptly, and stare at Thulio before softly finishing, "I don't know how to save myself." Now that the words are out, I feel myself shudder. Fear washes over me as helplessness returns. I can't protect myself, and I haven't any idea how I'm supposed to keep myself alive. I have relied on my friends for far too long, and so far my own safety has never become much of an issue. I have never felt this way before. Part of me wishes that I had stayed that day, to listen to what Lancelot had to say even if I couldn't actually put his words into practice. Perhaps he could have helped me.

"I miss them." I admit hollowly, staring at my hands. I've never said these words aloud to anyone; though I'm sure everyone must know it. I'm sure one would only have to look at my face to see the truth. I have always been loyal to them, offering anything I could to keep them happy. I see them as family, as brothers who would do the same if I ever asked. Yet… when I need them, they are never here. I wince at the thought, trying to shake it from my mind. I don't want to go down that path of thought; it could only lead to heartache. And yet the bitterness inside of me doesn't hesitate to show me all the times they should have been there for me and weren't.

"Do you think they do it on purpose?" I ask Thulio abruptly. She raises an eyebrow in confusion and I hastily explain, "Do you think they abandon me on purpose?" She is startled by my question, and I can't blame her. I have never questioned their actions like this before, so outwardly and bluntly. But I must know, and I must hear it from someone who is not a part of our strange little group. She sighs heavily, and then places a hand on mine. I bite my lip at the comforting touch, having missed such signs of affection.

"No, they don't abandon you at all." Thulio answers, "How could they? I have a feeling that the great knights are what keep you… you. I think they make up a large part of who you are. I think they are the reason you are still here." Her words, the second they are spoken, lift a heavy weight off of my chest. I feel tears sting my eyes, yet I can't seem to let them fall. I nod twice, and at least for the moment, I don't feel the despair I felt before. I have a sickening feeling, lurking deep down inside, that once the knights return I will be forced to confront my ill-begotten feelings towards them. I wrap my arms around myself, and in a moment of concern, I send a silent prayer up to the gods to protect the men that I care about so dearly.

Thulio takes her leave almost as quietly as she had come, but her words remain with me. Even as I fall asleep and find myself dreaming, her words play a central theme. I wake up once during the night and, hearing the sounds of drunken revelry out in the courtyard I am taken back to so many lonely nights of wishing. Feeling rather confused, my heart leaps into my throat when I hear the voices, thinking that the knights have returned and are celebrating their freedom. As my senses return to me, it slowly dawns on me that I'm only hearing the soldiers and my heart crumbles a little. I feel I should be close to tears but find that I can't shed even one. I struggle to sit up but find that I can't, my muscles so stiff and my back so tender that the barest movement tears a ragged cry from my lips. At first, the inclination to simply panic is overwhelming, but I somehow manage to talk myself down, to keep my breathing steady and even.

Though I am calm once again, I know in the pit of my stomach that not everything is alright. A cold sliver creeps down my spine and I close my eyes briefly. I know something is coming up, something terrible, and I am not sure I can endure it. I am so tired, physically and emotionally. I feel as though I have nothing left inside to fight with, despite the strength that Thulio and, I hope, Vanora are prepared to loan me. Defeat seems as though it lurks in every corner, and I find it hard to continue the fight when I feel the way I do. The spirit I used to have that Lancelot once called endearing has evaporated into nothingness.

I swallow thickly and whisper, "I'm so sorry, Father. So sorry. I _failed_ you." I think of the knights, picturing their reactions if they saw me now, and begin to tremble. I bury my face in my hands and whisper, "Gods… I have failed you all."

**Next chapter The knights return; Kate continues to struggle with her emotions. **


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